


and yet you saved me // mini hiatus

by A_Pathetic_Eel



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem)-centric, Canon Rewrite, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Heavy Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, no beta we die like men, twins au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Pathetic_Eel/pseuds/A_Pathetic_Eel
Summary: Byleth is selfish. He may be lacking in the emotion department, but he at least knows that much. He's a mercenary for money, and would only consider risking his hide for his sister, father, and a select few mercenaries he deemed important as allies.So why in the name of Creation did he turn to help a stranger in blue, knowing he may get nothing out of it?//Sorry, but my motivation for writing this had suffered a bit with the quarantine. Youd think itd make me want to do it more but no. I have so may ideas for this but theyre later on in the fic soo....I might write a few mini pics while I'm getting my motivation back. I have chapter. 5 ab half written at this point so just hold on!! Again, I am super super sorry!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	1. a stroke of unwanted kindess

Running. 

  
  


It was something second nature to Dimitri. He’d been doing it since day one and he was more than strong enough to run for hours yet, of all the times to fail him, it had to be now, chased by bandits out for his head.

  
  


None could fault him though; not with a hand axe half-wedged into his calf. Edelgard and Claude _could_ help him, but they were quickly pelting ahead of him with no signs of turning back. Did they even notice him slowing? Not hear his cry as iron pierced his flesh?

  
  


He attempted to keep his mind off the pain crackling through his body, but with each step it cried out again, a strong voice from a weak being, begging him to stop and it took every ounce of his might to ignore the calls. The calls from the bandits, the pain, or the growing shadow of regrets?- he could not tell. He didn’t care in the moment.

  
  


An expanse of empty land, the occasional tree, a slender animal presumed to be a fox. All shot past Dimitri with no glance given. No time.

  
  


Drunken shrieks of delight echoed behind him. 

  
  


Closer, closer they drew, and he was unsure how much closer they’d have to be to throw another, more accurate axe at him. He’d struck lucky with the first. He reckoned it wouldn’t be far now.

  
  


Edelgard and Claude had since disappeared from sight. Remire village was up ahead, maybe they got help there. He hoped to whatever watched over them was generous and bestowed him with the privilege of getting help, of living to see another day. 

  
  


Dimitri’s mouth ran dry, his throat hoarse from his heavy pants and his leg was going numb from blood loss. It would only be a matter of the time he didn’t have before it gave out beneath him. Was this really his last day, to die dishonourably upon common ground, to swine that killed for joy or money or material possession? 

  
  


It wasn’t as though he thought he didn’t deserve it.

  
  


Just not yet, when so much remained unfinished and unavenged.

  
  


An expanse of empty land, the occasional tree, a slender animal that ran as a ball of fire quipped by Dimitri’s side and collided into an aerial axe with a resounding _thud_. A glance. Some time. A figure clad black bolts past.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Running.

  
  


It was something second nature to Byleth. He’d been doing it since day one and he’d be able to do it until the final dusk and then some. His lithe frame and lean muscle allowed him to be quick but silent on his feet, an invaluable skill to mercenaries alike. 

  
  


But he was selfish and he wouldn’t run for just anyone. Money is what he would run for, money and anything else he could get his hands on, paid by shaded nobles with unfinished business or other mercenaries who needed help. 

  
  


Free kindness didn’t get you anywhere in this world, least of all Fòdlan. He learned that lesson long ago and so became like the masses. Selfish.

  
  


And yet.

  
  


And yet he was running towards a stranger in blue he’d never met. A noble surely; judging by the shade of dye he’d seen stained with red a few moments ago, a rich noble. Perhaps one with enough decency to offer a prize for saving their life. But he couldn’t be sure, knowing the nature of nobility.

  
  


And yet.

  
  


To be fair, it hadn’t been a normal day, not that the ‘day’ had lasted anymore than a few minutes, having been up and out of Crowbar Inn for a mission in the Kingdom. 

  
  


But he had a dream. And Byleth didn’t dream.

  
  


_Byleth could almost feel the heat of the flame on his face as it raged behind a man he felt he should know. The stranger was greyed with age yet still seemed fight-worthy, able to fit in with the armoured men and the devilish song of blades colliding, a harmony he was used to but never heard from so many people at the once. It was an irritation to his ears but he found he had no ears for his hands to cover; he was just a floating conscious left to spectate a war between that hauntingly familiar man and a rather unfazed woman, in easily the most regal (and, in Byleth’s opinion, the most unfit for battle) armour he’d ever seen, adorned in gold and jewels._

  
  


_The man reared back, glaring at the woman, and unsheathed a sword that flew out like a snake in pieces and coiled in the air before lurching to sink a fang into her. She stepped backwards, a small shielding protecting her, before he drew a silver sword of her own and advanced._

  
  


_From there, chaos. Byleth could make out the moves, if barely. The man, as wild as a bear yet skilled, and the woman… what was it the soldier called her in dying breath? Lady Seiros?_

  
  


_She was beautiful and graceful as most with the title of lady are. But there was something Byleth didn’t like about her, and he wasn’t quite sure what._

  
  


_Their blades met in midair, crossed, before a shove felled ‘Seiros’ back. The tip of the snake-sword nicked at a strap in her clothing and it broke pathetically easily._

  
  


_She back-stepped dodged a blow from the snake-sword, ducking under it, before another blow came upon her. She shifted, and caught the sword around her own, the red heat of the snake-sword casting black lines into the thin silver, yet it did not break as the man tried to retrieve the golden pieces. With a quick flick of the hand, she disregarded her own sword, yanking the snake-sword with it and they clattered to the floor._

  
  


_With a scowl, she ran over to the man and with no time to react, punched him up the jaw, sending him reeling back. He stumbled, bringing a hand to his face to check for blood before Seiros jumped and landed a kick to his face, heel colliding with a resounding crack of his nose and fell back, his head sending a mix of mud and gore into the air and over his now-bloodied face._

  
  


_A beat, a sword to the throat, pinned._

  
  


_She leaned in, a venomous look on her face, “Tell me Nemesis, do you recall the Red Canyon?”_

  
  


_His yellow, blazing eyes widened and his pupils shrank. “You’ll die for that!” Those eyes shocked as Seiros’ sword sank into his throat with toxic fervor, spilling more blood onto the ravaged grounds around him._

  
  


_“Die! Die!” Each word punctuated with another fatal stab. “You took… everything that I loved.” Another stab pierced the skin, red pooling around the fresh corpse and it’s cause, dying her white regalia a shade Byleth was far too used to._

  
  


_Soft orange swallowed the skies and the sun smiled despite discord over the horizon._

  
  


_The remaining soldiers raised swords, lances, bows in victory, and Seiros looked for only a moment at the dawn of a new era. She looked at the snake-sword, green eyes filled with an emotion Byleth could not recognise, and lifted it delicately, as though it would shatter permanently if she mistreated it._

  
  


_“He’s gone now, mother…” She breathed, cradling the sword against porcelain skin, a smudge of blood marking her otherwise-innocent-looking features._

  
  


_Bile surged up Byleth’s non-existent throat, gleams of technicolour surrounding wherever he was and all aside that light going death black. His head spinned and when he retrieved his bearings, he was in front of a stone throne with someone, small and weak, sleeping on it._

  
  


_At Byleth’s entrance, she awoke and yawned, shading her mouth with delicate fingers, before cat-curious eyes fixated on him, a body now present. “Oh my.” She said, sleep dazed, “What could’ve brought you here?”_

  
  


_Byleth felt vaguely insulted._

  
  


The image of the green-haired girl was burned into memory as he pelted back, away from his band of mercenaries and towards where he knew that blue one was. He remembered it from a matter of seconds earlier, but earlier, they’d been but a bright corpse on the ground, an axe-wound embedded to the back of their skull and spilling, a bandit waving the marred weapon with a grin of malice. It was different now though, but he had no time to mull over what happened. The urge to run to this blue noble overcame sense; a mix of curiosity at the event and something Byleth hadn’t felt before clogging his mind.

  
  


He didn’t spare a second look to the white-haired shortie in red, or the darker one with a shock of yellow as he ran between them, but could hear a quiet gasp. They came up to the group earlier, breathless, asking for help. It was why he even checked out what happened to the blue one.

  
  


He wouldn’t’ve gone in his selfish ways, but his elder sister, Billy - ever-innocent and caring Billy - had sprung at the prospect of helping and scampered off, Byleth following instinctually. The duo had tried to follow, to go back and help, but were tugged aside by mercenaries and checked. Byleth wasn’t sure what happened to them after that.

  
  


He came upon the clearing quicker than he expected to, and saw the blue one but standing upright this time and not as a cadaver, running at a slow pace yet (barely) quick enough, an axe sunken into their calf. 

  
  


The thieves had made progress and were a matter of metres away from them. Byleth knew that it was at this point the duo had come up to them. They’d been dead for a while before he and his sister had arrived, late knights-in-dull-armour.

  
  


Blue hadn’t noticed him, head somewhat down and eyes unfocused other than a tunnel vision directly ahead. 

  
  


A particularly ugly bandit raised an axe, preparing to throw it at Blue, and Byleth sparked a flame in his hands. It roared to life, licking at the flame-proof gloves and dancing precariously close to his scarred face. He outstretched a hand in front of him, the glow aimed at a position midair and released just as the axe was thrown. As predicted, the axe and flame collided, the weapon knocked off course and into the dirt, the flame devouring the wood and scorching the iron. Blue startled and slowed. 

  
  


The bandit looked shocked and turned to find the source as the sword of a sword unsheathing echoed and ripped into skin and bone before the rogue could process what was happening. With a thud, he fell. Nothing more now than another body for Byleth to dispose of later. An irritation. Like the rest of the bandits now but an arm length away from Byleth. He held his sword in his right hand and sparked another flame in his left. 

  
  


Now for the massacre to begin.

  
  


Dimitri put his hand against a tree to steady himself and looked behind him. The figure that had run past him was now faced to the bandits, sword drawn and the glow of fire magic in hand. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation, but given the fact that they seemed to save him, he felt it was a good sign so far.

  
  


They left that blast of fire loose at the thief closest to them, sending him flying backwards and into another vermin, in which they took the now-bloodied sword and shoved it into the heart of the first once, piercing through the ribs and back, and into the heart of the second with ease, killing both and shirking off the bodies from their weapon, simultaneously firing a flame behind them to a running bandit; this flame a headshot.

  
  


Attacks were deftly dodged and dealt, a flurry of a personal inferno and metal controlling the herd of relentless but now clearly scared rogues. Dimitri hadn’t even glimpsed the attacker’s face and couldn’t get a read of them physically with the loose coat they wore.

  
  


Another shadow gleaned him, gently knocking his shoulder, a sword drawn. He caught a length of long navy hair behind them.

  
  


“Aye bro! You can’t run off to have a scrap and not tell me!” A woman’s voice rang out in a sing-song tune as she quickly decapitated a bandit as she zoomed by. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was smiling, but even so, in the midst of battle, now side-by-side with her ‘bro’, she gave a positive vibe. Much more trusting than the other figure.

  
  


The moon’s weak rays and the sun’s early shines barely glinted off the blood-caked weapons held by the siblings, now running over Creation, jumping rocks and against trees, delivering attack after ruthless attack, the girl making idle chatter all the while. “Lucky timing, aye? You gotta have some sorta sense to know that that lad over there needed help! Anythin’ your not telling me?” She smirked, and could hear a small groan from her brother.

  
  


Another deafening screech of a struck-down foe. “But really, those two fuckers only came after you left. They asked for help and you were already giving it. Whaddya know?” 

  
  


“Billy this is hardly the time.” Byleth grunted, voice low with no particular emotion. Billy pouted.

  
  


“Not even gonna tell your dear ol’ sister?”

  
  


“Wait until after the- BILLY REAR!” An axe dug itself into the nook between her neck and shoulder, expression melting into that of horror as her lifeblood spilled into the air. A shock of worry down Byleth’s spine, though dull like most of his emotions, made him step towards her, arm outstretched.

  
  


He was hit with a wave of nausea and swirls of purple framed his vision as it had earlier. A fresh surge of bile rose in his throat as the world snapped into darkness.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Honestly! What are you accomplishing, calling out like that? Not gonna change much when she’s already half-impaled! It’s like you’re trying to make this hard for me, you fool.”

  
  


Byleth squinted to try and see in the darkness when a light bit at his eyes and he had to close them. He couldn't tell where he was - the void probably, given the inky blackness that surrounded him. He looked to the light again, letting it in slowly as to not blind himself again. A girl with poofy green pigtails sat unimpressed on the throne. It was that girl from his dreams.

  
  


The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he raised his sword in front of him. She tutted. “Have you always been so untrusting? Or this much of a jerk” She sighed and narrowed her eyes at him.

  
  


He gave her no response and she huffed again. “Maybe it’s a hereditary trait, given how your father was much the same in so rudely waking you when we were speaking!” A petty stomp of the foot and she rose from the chair, eyeing him like he was beneath her. “As I was saying before…” She trailed off, looking away for a few eternal seconds. “Ah, nevermind. I already know your name. Plus, we share our day of birth!” Byleth quirked an eyebrow slightly. “The 20th of the Horsebow Moon?” She checked, somewhat doubting. Byleth gave the _slightest_ nod of the head, never once taking his eyes off her.

  
  


She looked him up and down, memorising his form. “You are so careless, as to let your sister get killed like that-”

  
  


“It is not my job to protect her. She is a mercenary; she can take care of herself. She should. _She_ is the careless one.” He spat, yet no indication of anger made its way to his hard features. Sothis looked aghast for a few moments.

  
  


“Do you care so little? Well, since you don’t see the meaning to life you’re not going to protect it very well, are you?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Well then, I guess it’s up to me to guide you from now on right!” She exclaimed, looking far too excited at the prospect. “You can call me Sothis… But I am also known as ‘The Beginning’.”

  
  


“You are telling me this why?” Byleth curtly asked, “I have no reason to trust you. This could all be a fucking dream for all I know. And a stupid one at that.”  
  


Sothis gasped again - comedically so. “You are just- UGH! I _ONLY JUST_ recalled my name and you slander me so?! Am I that small to you?!” He gave her a once over, an answer in itself. Indignified, she puffed her cheeks and pouted, brows furrowed, which only made her look more like a child. “If you are going to be so _RUDE_ then I shouldn’t have paused time then. I don’t wish to be stuck in scape with _YOU_.”

  
  


He cocked his head to the side. “Paused time?” He thought back to the event earlier, where he had seen a blue corpse one moment, and was walking back with his mercenaries the next. “Are you able to reverse it?”

  
  


“Oh, _NOW_ you’re interested.” Her arms folded and she turned away from him. The tantrum only lasted a matter of seconds though, as she seemed to get bored of it quickly. “But since it seems we are stuck together - only for now, hopefully - I suppose I should tell you.” She coughed into her hand and raised upright, facing him. Byleth had now lowered his sword so that it rested on whatever he was standing on. “Yes, I believe. I think I did it earlier, though I cannot tell whether it was you or I who caused that. With your personality, I’d assume it was me, but how…?” 

  
  


“Are you able to do it again? I may be able to warn my sister this time.” Sothis gave a curt glare. “I would be grateful.”

  
  


“No, you wouldn’t be. You don’t feel much other than rage, do you?” Even so, she perked up at the praise. “Gratitude should be shown; I did deem you worth helping, did I not?” 

  
  


Byleth didn’t respond, ‘eagerly’ awaiting an answer to his question. “I’m… sure I could send you back enough to save her. You really are quite troublesome.” A flurry of yellow circles and patterns appeared in the air in front of Sothis, a particular once in the middle that seemed to glow brighter than all the rest caught Byleth’s attention. “You must go, you who… bears the flames within,” she spoke uncertainly, “Drift through the flow of time to find the answers that you seek.” Okay, now that was just sarcastic.

  
  


However, the man had no time to protest as, once again, a wave of sickness took him, and he was standing back on the battlefield, sword slit into a guy’s neck, purple still mildly sparking in the corner of his vision.

  
  


“-those two fuckers only came after you lef-” 

  
  


“Billy, rear!” He snapped, not letting history repeat itself. She whirled, bringing her sword in an arc over the thief trying to sneak on her, landing a fatal blow to the nook between the neck and the shoulder - exactly where Billy had been struck before. Byleth sent off a flame to the bandit she was previously dealing with. 

  
  


She whistled. “Nice spotting, By! I woulda been toast!”

  
  


_‘Yeah, more than you know.’_

  
  


A sudden cry of **“You’ll die!”** distracted them from their scrum with the bandits as a larger, balding man charged towards them, axe raised carelessly. Byleth and Billy shot each other a look of _‘what’s he trying to achieve with a forward attack?’_ , and Billy gave a quick nod for Byleth to take the reins on the big guy. He gave a quick stab to the neck of the guy he was dealing with and prepared himself.

  
  


The man yelled, mouth wide open as he charged, axe flailing in an inexperienced manner. Byleth gave a huff, offering no words, and let him get closer. Once deemed within range, Byleth took three quick steps forward and thrust his sword up into the yelling maw of the bandit leader, driving the iron through to the back of his head and skull. He went limp nearly instantly as the mercenary watched red drip from the nose, before drawing his sword out and letting the hulking corpse fall to the floor.

  
  


A breath slipped from his lips he didn’t realise he was holding. His eyes flickered to Billy and he walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?” The image of her neck being ripped into wouldn’t leave his mind.

  
  


“Yeah, you? Seriously dude; first you go off and help a guy without askin’, and now you’re askin’ _me_ if I’m okay? You never do, are you sick?” She joked, jumping up to place a hand on his forehead, which he batted away.

  
  


“THE KNIGHTS OF SEIROS ARE HERE! WE’LL CUT YOU DOWN FOR TERRORISING OUR STUDENTS!” An unfamiliar voice bellowed from across the field, but the glint of silver armour was visible in the growing sunlight, now spilling over the horizon.

  
  


_‘Seiros… isn’t that what the woman in my dream was called? Either way, they’re a bit late.’_

  
  


The man looked to the bandits running away, wounded with their tails between their legs. “HEY, THE THIEVES ARE GETTING AWAY! GO AFTER THEM!” He boomed again, and four other knights ran off in the direction the bandits scampered off to, while the leader charged over to the other side of the field, looking just past the duo. It was only then Byleth remembered the guy from earlier, and the other two. He followed his gaze to see Yellow and Red watching him and his sister wide-eyed, and Blue sitting on the ground, his leg being tended to, but as equally as surprised. Billy gave a friendly jab to the side and they walked over.

  
  


“The students seem to be… “ He paused and looked at Blue. “...relatively unharmed.” Byleth was almost tempted to bring up the fact a few however-long-ago-it-was-earlier, he’d been a corpse on the ground. But he didn’t, because it _did_ sound rather stupid. “And… who’s this.” The stranger's eyes fixed on Jeralt, who sighed in turn.

  
  


“Ugh… why him?” 

  
  


“Captain Jeralt?! It is you! Goodness, it’s been ages!” The man happily chimed, strolling up to Jeralt and holding his hand out to shake, which wasn’t taken. “Don’t you recognise me? It’s Alois! Your old right-hand man! Well, that’s how I always thought of myself anyway. It must have been 20 years ago that you went missing without a trace. I always knew you were-”

  
  


“I’m gonna cut you off right there. Geez, you haven’t changed a bit, have you?” He grumbled, the wrinkles in his forehead bunching in frustration. “And drop the ‘Captain’ shit, I haven’t been your captain in years.” Alois looked taken aback; hurt even.

  
  


Byleth and Billy strolled up to his side, Billy more interested in the potential friend and Byleth evaluating him. Jeralt stretched. “I’m just a wandering mercenary now; one with work to do. Goodbye.” 

  
  


“Right… goodbye, Captain.” Alois’ face fell, and Jeralt signalled for his mercenaries to collect themselves and get ready to depart. They were off-track enough. 

  
  


Byleth rejoined the group and glanced at Blue, now being helped up by Nyake, their healer. He glanced at the wound, slowly sealing shut from the green magic given from the healer and the navy-haired man threw his eyebrows up a little. “Did you use the needle? It’s quicker, it only hurts a bit more.” His voice was quiet, and Blue didn’t hear him.

  
  


Nyak gave him a dirty look. “Leave the kid alone.” His voice was exasperated, and Byleth glanced at Blue before returning his gaze to his ally.

  
  


“I’m not talking to this kid, I’m talking to you. He can take an axe, he can take a needle.” This the kid overheard and looked thoroughly confused, but Byleth shrugged it off, as well as the amazed stares from Yellow and Red.

  
  


Billy gave a disappointed look, willing to get to know these people. She shot a look to Alois who, seeing her face, piped up again. “Wait! This isn’t how it ends! I insist you come back to the monastery with us!” Jeralt froze and tensed, uttering a few curse words under his breath.

  
  


“Garreg Mach Monastery…” It was a place they’d passed a couple of times, but Jeralt always said to never get too close, let alone enter. “I suppose this was inevitable.” Alois looked to Billy and they shared a gleeful look.

  
  


“And who are these two? From what I caught, they certainly did a good job of taking care of those bandits!”

  
  


Billy jumped to Jeralt’s side, hanging off his arm. “We’re bandits too!” She joked, earning a laugh from Alois and a small glare from Byleth, which she just caught. “Eh, we’re his kids. Clearly.” She said the last bit sarcastically - it was no secret there was little resemblance between the three.

  
  


“Physical differences aside, your mannerisms do remind me of the Captain. Especially you.” He smiled at Byleth, which was harshly denied. “I’d love for you two to see the Monastery too. You will join us, won’t you?”

  
  


Despite Billy bouncing at the idea, Jeralt sighed heavily and Byleth looked anywhere but Alois’ direction; looking where he’d much rather be in that moment. “What’s troubling you Captain? You aren’t abou to run off again, are you?”

  
  


Jeralt offered a defeated expression - a salty one at that - and conceded. “Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros. As long as we’re not paying, we’ll come.” He turned to face his mercenaries. “Change of plan! We’re going to Garreg Mach. Pack your shit.” A mix of groans and excited whispers or just plain, confused silence arose.

  
  


Byleth watched wearily, uninterested. _“The Knights of Seiros… They do seem rather skilled.”_ A voice from nowhere almost made him flinch. It sounded echoey and familiar… 

  
  


_‘Sothis…?’_

  
  


_“Yes? Oh! It seems your presence is required for some reason. Run along.”_ Byleth huffed and glanced to where the three donning primary colours stood, Billy already sauntering happily over to them.

  
  


Dimitri watched as the duo from before walked over to them calmly - far too calmly for someone covering in sprays of blood for his liking. But he shrugged the worry off in favour of getting a better look at the two.

  
  


The girl - Billy, it seemed - was shorter than she looked in battle, either the same height as or shorter than Edelgard. The boy - By - from what Billy called him, was maybe just under a head taller than Dimitri, and they were close… a scar. It looked like a burn mark but far too slash-like to possibly be, stretching from under his collar, up his neck and making a cobweb over his cheek, narrowly missing his lip and right eye. _‘What could that be from to cause such damage?’_

  
  


“We appreciate your help back there. Your skills are beyond question. You two must be experienced mercenaries. And your father…” Edelgard glanced back to look where Jeralt was barking a mix of orders and cusses, “that would be Jeralt, the Blade Breaker? Former Captain of the Knights of Seiros and oft praised as the strongest knight to ever live. Have I missed anything?” She spoke sweetly, but something lurked beneath the words, all could tell.

  
  


Billy gave a short laugh. “Only found out he was the Captain just now! Hehe~ It’s quite funny, not knowing something so important.”

  
  


Edelgard raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You… didn’t know? I’d wager the explanation for that is interesting indeed.” Dimitri, waiting for Edelgard to finish, stepped forward.

  
  


“I have yet to express my gratitude for saving me back there. Had you not come when you did, I’m certain I would’ve been a dead man! It must’ve been fate at play - that or you have exceptionally good senses. Either way, I am in your debt and I am ever thankful to you.” Dimitri bowed to By as he sung his praises, but got no response.

  
  


Billy elbowed By. “Say something Byleth! Don’t be a dick!” Ah, so _Byleth_ was his full name. ‘By’ did sound a little on the short side.

  
  


Byleth grunted. “Don’t worry about it.” Dimitri swallowed in something of intimidation at the man staring him down, and opted to say nothing. An awkward silence followed until Claude clapped his hands.

  
  


“Hey!- You two are coming back to the Monastery with us, right? Of course you are, I heard the convo. I’d love to bend your ears as we travel.” A wink for flourish and Billy perked up, nodding slightly. “I should mention the three of us are students of the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. We were doing training exercises with a Professor who seems to have run off when we were attacked. I definitely got the worst of it.” He dramatically put the back of his hand to his head and sighed, earning a small snort, again, from Billy. Claude seemed quite pleased with that.

  
  


Edelgard however, did not see the humour. “That would be because you ran off.” 

  
  


“Too true! I was the first to make a strategic retreat. Everything would’ve worked out fine had these two not followed me and ruined everything! Because of them, all of us were chased by those bandits. Utterly ridiculous.”

  
  


Dimitri scowled slightly. “Ah, so that’s what you were thinking Claude. And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all.” The smile he put on afterwards was fake, stomping his healed leg to prove the point, sending a slight sting up where it had not fully healed.

  
  


“His intentions were as clear as day. You will prove a lacking ruler if you cannot see the truth behind a person’s words, Dimitri.” Edelgard remarked, not hiding her judgemental tone.

  
  


“Hm. You will prove a lacking ruler yourself if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those you rely on, Edelgard.” Dimitri retorted with a similar tone.

  
  


Byleth sighed loudly to make his point that whatever was going on, he didn’t like. Claude took that as a cue to sweep up the conversation under a rug. “Oh, joy. A royal debate between their Highnesses. I wonder how being completely predictable affects one’s ability to wield power. Anyway, we should focus on getting back to the Monastery, shouldn’t we?”

  
  


Dimitri nodded. “Of course. But first, if I may…” He looked between the two siblings in front of him. “The way you held yourselves against the bandits was positively captivating! You never lost control of the situation.” Byleth internally doubted that last bit. “It showed me I still have much to learn-”

  
  


“Your skill is precisely why I must ask you to lend your services to the Empire.” Edelgard cut in, earning a hidden pout from the Prince. “I might as well tell you now. I am no mere student. I am also the Adrestian Empire’s-”

  
  


“Halt, Edelgard. Please, allow me to finish my own proposition first. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is in dire need of exceptional individuals like yourselves. Please, do consider returning to the Kingdom with me.” He cut back in, looking between the two, trying to ignore the blood that splattered their faces.

  
  


Claude tutted, earning the attention of all four. “You two are so desperate to get these two in your ranks, huh? Y’know, I was planning on creating a deep and lasting friendship on the way back before asking to fraternize like that.” He poked at the other two (who were more confused than anything). “But there seems to be no time for niceties in this world, so I’ll ask you to join the Leicester Alliance and come back with me over these two. I’m a… bit more worthwhile, if you catch my drift.” The wink was not lost on the twins, but was rather ignored. 

  
  


Billy’s eyes gleamed at the prospect, while Byleth swallowed the eighth groan of the day. Her eyes flickered between the three, all hopeful. “I’ll say… this guy.” She pointed to Claude. “You seem more fun than these two - that’s my only reasoning. I like a chill guy.” She explained, and Claude pumped the air with his fist.

  
  


“You won’t regret that!” He said, leaning over to shake her hand. “We’ll be besties and everything! I’m Claude von Riegan by the way.” It all sounded like fake crap to Byleth. Rulers were known for having some sort of privy secret in these situations. “And you! Wanna join your sister?.. I assume sister?”

  
  


_“It seems one’s place of birth is of importance to these three, yet you are able to choose? Who will you pick?”_ Sothis said suddenly, poorly masking her excitement.

  
  


_The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, the Adrestian Empire, and the Leicester Alliance…_

  
  


Byleth looked the three over again, all hopeful.

  
  


“I don’t owe anything to any of you. I am happy as a wanderer. Goodbye.” Was all he said as he turned, unable to see the pouting faces of the three, Sothis yelling and grumbling at him, with a few thrown in, eloquent curses that didn’t sound right, considering she looked like she was ten. He could Billy explaining as he left:

  
  


“Sorry, my brother’s a bit of a jacky, and we’re kindof a two-part package. I, ah… gotta stick with him. Twinstinct an’ all.”

  
  


Alois bumbled over the the quad behind him. “All right, that's enough with the small talk. It’s time to head back to the Monastery!” Billy eagerly followed after the three, keeping up the small talk as Byleth wandered back over to Jeralt.

  
  


Jeralt smiled and ruffled Byleth’s hair. He looked Byleth in the eyes and could read the unspoken, unshown annoyance in those eyes. “I know, I don’t wanna do this either, but it’s for the best. I’ll keep you outta all the stuff you don’t wanna be in.” Out of everyone he knew, Jeralt could read him the best. He was dully thankful for it. “C’mon kid, let’s go catchup with the chatterboxes.”

  
  


The trip to the Monastery was short, only stopping twice for breaks, but something about the new three seemed… off to him. They respected he didn’t want to be spoken to and didn’t really address him except to pry some information out of Billy, which she thankfully kept shut about. But still. It was an annoying fly that wouldn't go away, and annoyance was one of the emotions Byleth felt more strongly than others.

  
  


Edelgard seemed nice enough, but her eyes were constantly calculating, always evaluating. Not that Byleth didn’t do the same thing, but it felt like it was for wildly different reasons. He couldn’t hazard a guess as to whether they were good or bad or anything else; he wasn’t the best with common morals.

  
  


Claude; the joker of the three. Sure, he was more relaxed, but that relaxed, playful smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was something he wasn’t saying, wasn’t doing, and it set all of Byleth’s alarms off. He would never consider allying with an untrustworthy man, let alone accepting one as a ruler.

  
  


And Dimitri, the one he saved earlier. He piqued Byleth’s interest. What had possessed him - or rather, Sothis - to make him go back? He wasn’t special to him. Billy he could understand, but Dimitri?... The boy seemed polite, but Byleth had long since learned to never trust polite. There was something in him, biting at the surface, wanting to break free but he kept a hold on.

  
  


The thoughts clouded him as they traveled (he couldn’t say he felt too good about leaving his sister with them, but she _was_ an adult), and it wasn’t until the peak of Garreg Mach rose above the canopy that he allowed those thoughts to leave.

  
  


He could see someone with green hair standing on a balcony at the very top. He could only assume they were watching them, or at least surveying the land.

  
  


And he suddenly had an awful felling in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this first bit!!!
> 
> any feedback is super appreciated (grammar, tips, spelling, etc)
> 
> this is my first (proper) fic so excuse me if it's horse-shit lmao
> 
> this contains spoilers for the Blue Lions route/ Azure Moon! it stays pretty close to canon for the beginning and then it begins to shift HEAVILY, so be warned!!! this is mostly because I'm not a huge fan of the time skip - unpopular opinion, i know - so im rewriting it just because i want to. i dont hate it by any means, im just a picky bitch
> 
> !!!updates are going to be slow btw!! ill aim for weekly but i cant make any promises im sorry!!!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed regardless!!! :))


	2. the hare and the wolf

_The Archbishop gazed at the young child in her arms, long since dead._

  
  


A pain shocked through Byleth’s body as he approached the Monastery as it usually did whenever he drew near. His eyes never left the figure atop the balcony. He hadn’t seen them there before in his prior passings - at least not as far as he could remember. 

  
  


_She stroked the top of his head fondly, almost sadly, brushing a fuzz of thin navy._

  
  


He was almost certain they were watching him. Even at the distance mint-green hair stood out from the grey of stone. He swore he could see gold on the figure, but even with his sharp eyesight he could not tell. They disappeared behind a wall as he and the group moved down a hill ever closer.

  
  


_Even in the death of a newborn and his mother however, there was life._

  
  


A part of him wanted to turn around and run, to yell at his father for agreeing and simply continue on with his past life, in the way he was raised for the past years of his life. But despite his strength, he knew he could not escape these ‘Knights of Seiros’ people. Even the yappy one.

  
  


_There_ **_will be_ ** _life._

  
  


All he could do was walk ahead with exaggerated steps, trying to keep ahead of Red, Blue and Yellow’s seemingly-eternal conversation. 

  
  


_The child wasn’t going to breathe the new life though, no._

  
  


Something he’d felt before but couldn’t place built up in his gut. It made him feel somewhat ill. Another shock of pain ran through his body, his scar stinging.

  
  


_That was reserved for someone far more important._

  
  


He could no longer glimpse at the person on the balcony, the outer walls loosely decorated with metal signs and flowers defending his view. A black iron gate with two guards on either side took place on those walls, a pitiful display considering the sheer height of the Monastery. There were likely hidden snipers in the towers and guardsmen on the inner. All it would take would be one misstep and Byleth would be a dead man.

  
  


... _Something, something_ “...Garreg Mach Monastery.” Byleth wasn’t sure who said what. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They must’ve passed through what seemed like eight armoured doors before passing through a more dainty pair of engraved wooden ones, opening onto a courtyard. Directly ahead there was a pathway, winding up stairs to where the familiar ruckus of market echoed and Byleth allowed himself to ease slightly. Simple grass life and wandering maidens in common garments were to the sides.

  
  


Alois said something and the group followed behind, heading up the stairs. Except however, Jeralt.

  
  


Byleth slowed to reach his father’s side as Billy went on, the conversation thinned with awe. He was looking up, eyes squinted. Byleth followed his gaze to see the balcony he was so enraptured with previously to see the figure, this time most certainly staring at him.

  
  


“Rhea’s here…” Jeralt muttered, suspicion laced in his tone. 

  
  


Many of her features were still beyond his recognition, but her white dress, golden crown and green hair he’d made out earlier stood out. 

  
  


“I wonder…” Rhea whispered to no one but herself, a second shock of pain coursing through her veins, “Did the flow of time bring you here?”

  
  


Jeralt sighed and looked away, continuing to trail behind the group now a good while ahead of them. Their banter was drowned out by the nearby bartering, but they still seemed to be chatting quite happily. Billy had always been much better at socialising than her father and brother. _‘Just like her mother,’_ Jeralt thought, though he was well aware even she had her limits.

  
  


The duo followed the group ahead of them through the bustle of market, pushing past various unbothered shoppers and up onto a second set of stairs. Ahead, a large doorway, open, with a lone guard positioned next to it.

  
  


“Greetings Your Highnesses! Nothing to report!” He greeted with a salute. He was met with formality and then walked past, up into the entrance hall.

  
  


Byleth glanced left past his father before entering the hall, seeing a pond with a fishing dock. A few people stood around partaking in the hobby, such as a person with short, orange hair that seemed somewhat excited once they saw Jeralt, and a silver-haired person who looked like they were seconds away from being pushed into the lake by someone Byleth could not see.

  
  


It felt lively, even in the emptier entrance hall. A few nobles, all dressed in pompous clothing pottered about, talking in way-too-exaggerated-to-be-real accents. They were real though; Byleth thought back to that one red-head, half-balding noble he met with for business once. 

  
  


_“He sounds annoying.”_ Sothis suddenly piped up, _“and all I have to go off is your memory.”_

  
  


_‘He was. You can see my memories?’_ She read his thoughts earlier, surely she can now. He looked ahead. _‘Fucken- that’s a lotta stairs.’_

  
  


Whether she could or couldn’t, he got no reply. He hoped to Goddess she wouldn’t be staying long. If she kept popping up randomly like that, he might just start to feel pissed. Not that it wasn’t rising already, being thrust into this situation with these people.

  
  


“It’s been years since I’ve last set eyes on this place. To be forced to see her now...” Jeralt half-mumbled, just loud enough for Byleth to catch. 

  
  


They started up the second set of stairs. “You’ve been here before?”

  
  


“I’ve never spoken of this to you before but… many years ago, I was a knight here.” A bitter expression crossed his face. Not pleasant memories, clearly. “I reported to the archbishop, Lady Rhea.”

  
  


“Rhea?” Byleth became more and more aware of the eyes on him and Jeralt as they passed into a small section of garden, the group still ahead of them, but slowing. 

  
  


Jeralt gave a hesitant nod. “BILLY! GET OVER HERE!” He yelled, drawing the attention of many passerbys. “Yeah. As you know, the majority of folks here are devout followers to the teachings of Seiros.” 

  
  


Byleth almost flinched as he recognized the name again. Was Jeralt so certain he knew this? It all sounded new, and Byleth had a good memory. 

  
  


“The leader of that ridiculously large religious organisation is the archbishop, Lady Rhea.” They continued down another hall and turned left, where the group had gone. “She came into power of it long ago and has been looking after it since.”

  
  


Billy stood on some stairs, now alone. She gave the wall and impatient tap. “You two are sloooowww when you wanna be. C’mon; Alois said we should go to the audience chamber. Wherever that is. Somewhere up here, he said.” She gestured and then continued up the flight. 

  
  


The conversation dropped as they walked on up for what must’ve been a solid few minutes. 

  
  


Luckily, the audience chamber was directly ahead of the stairs once they got to the top, a pair of dark double doors with gold entwined in the middle. However, for all it was, it was quite minimalistic - in comparison to the rest of what they’d seen, at least. 

  
  


The guards at the doors took one look at the trio and opened the doors. _‘So we were expected…’_

  
  


The audience chamber was ridiculously well-decked, with the floor shades of green, white, blue, red and yellow; black stone twisted up to meet the ceiling high above their heads; pottery that looked positively priceless yet so dull stood away from the walkthrough. At the end of the room, on top of a small set of white stairs, surrounded by pillars of similar hue was what looked like a gold throne of sorts, in front of a laughably small glass stained window. Byleth couldn’t properly see what it depicted, given all the small, fine details, but he was sure even if he could see, he wouldn’t understand. Not like he bothered with this religion stuff.

  
  


In front of the throne were two people. One, a deep-green-haired man in dark blue and silver, looking stern. The other, a light-green-haired woma- _‘That’s the woman from the balcony…’_

  
  


She looked at the trio enter, taking in the room around them. Her eyes were wide but there was something Byleth didn’t trust about the way those eyes scrutinised him. He didn’t trust how eerily familiar she looked.

  
  


“Hello, Jeralt. My name is Seteth. I am advisor to the archbishop.” The green-haired man, Seteth, said.

  
  


The woman - presumably this ‘Rhea’ Jeralt had mentioned - spoke next, her voice as sweet as honey. “It has been a long time Jeralt. I wonder…” Her eyes drifted to Byleth for a moment, “is it the will of the Goddess that we have another chance meeting like this?”

  
  


“Forgive my silence all these years. Much has happened since we last spoke.” Jeralt gave a curt bow.

  
  


Her eyes returned to Byleth, and then glanced to the right of his father at Billy. “So I see. The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. These are your children, are they not?”

  
  


Billy nodded enthusiastically, a thin blush on her cheeks. “Yep! No other!” 

  
  


Jeralt seemed displeased at her. “Yeah… Born many years after I left this place. I wish I could introduce you to the mother of my children but… I’m afraid we lost her to illness.” 

  
  


Jeralt’s answer would’ve intrigued Byleth - his story of what happened to his mother seemed to change frequently. Yet, Rhea’s familiarity seemed off, and he couldn’t quite place why, that thought taking up his concentration.

  
  


Rhea disregarded Byleth’s narrowed, judging eyes. “My condolences. As for you, children. I’ve heard of you two from around Fòdlan. The Ashen Demons, I believe? Your valiant deeds are known far and wide, but please, may I learn of your true names?” 

  
  


“I’m Billy! It’s only my nickname, I mean, but me an’ him have the same name so I go by Billy.” A smile spread on her face, and a curious looked crossed Rhea’s face.

  
  


“You share the same name?” She looked to Jeralt, her smile lessening for a split second. He shifted uncomfortably. “How… interesting.” She turned her gaze to Byleth. “May I ask your name, then?”

  
  


Byleth said nothing, only looked at her.

  
  


“I must implore you answer the archbishop! If you do not-”

  
  


“It is alright Seteth. Is it not normal to be wary of someone new?” She said, a scolding hiding behind strawberry sweet words. She looked to Jeralt. “May I ask you?”

  
  


Jeralt shrugged. “If he doesn’t wanna tell you, I’m not going to force him.” He glanced over to Byleth, still staring at Rhea with an unchanged expression. “You okay kid? Lookin’ pretty suspicious there.”

  
  


“... You look like her.” He muttered. Rhea tilted her head, the golden of her crown swaying with her. “From my dream. A war it was. Seiros. You look like her.” The way Rhea flinched at his words did not go unnoticed. The way Seteth recoiled from his words much less subtly did not do unnoticed. The way another, stronger pain shot through his body and lingered stinging at his heart did not go unnoticed. “...Merely an observation. I am likely incorrect.”

  
  


Rhea ahemed and that motherly look in her eye returned but the glance of a dark suspicion still glinted in those green depths. “I have been likened to her before but never so forwardly. A dream you say? A war? May I ask how this dream played out?”

  
  


Before she could inquire further, Jeralt (thankfully) interrupted. “Let’s cut out this dream bullshit and get to the point. What do you want from us? Why’d you call us.”

  
  


She turned her neck so quickly to face Jeralt, Byleth swore he could hear a crack. “Of course.” She gave a small bow of the head. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for saving those students from the Officer’s Academy.”

  
  


Jeralt sighed. Rhea’s eyes softened. Seteth’s hardened.

  
  


“Jeralt. You already know what it is I wish to say, do you not?”

  
  


“You want me to rejoin the Knights of Seiros, don’t you? I won’t say no but…” He trailed off, his eye wandering the expanse of the room.

  
  


“Your apprehension stings. I would’ve thought Alois would have already asked this of you... I apologise; I must step away for now, but I expect they will desire a word with you soon. Please listen carefully to what they have to say. Until tomorrow… Farewell.” _‘Tomorrow? So we_ _don’t_ _get a say in how long we want to stay here.’_

  
  


Rhea left quickly, stepping around the group, the eyes on her a mix of excited, annoyed and curious.

  
  


Once Rhea and Seteth left, Jeralt sighed loudly. “I don’t believe it. Dragged back into the Knights of Seiros. I’m sorry I dragged you two into this.” He muttered.

  
  


“Don’t be! This is quite interesting!” Billy exclaimed.

  
  


“Glad someone’s enjoying this. Looks like I’ll be stuck here for a while… and from what Alois said on the way back, your services are requested here as well.”

  
  


Byleth threw up his brows and Billy gasped. 

  
  


“As a mercenary?” 

  
  


“As a servant?”

  
  


“Nothing of the sort. From what he said, they want you to teach here.” 

  
  


At this, Byleth frowned slightly. “No. I don’t help lives, I take lives. This is almost the exact opposite of my job.” Jeralt barked a short laugh.

  
  


“We don’t have much of a choice. You heard those brats talking about the Officers’ Academy, right?” Ah yes; Red, Yellow and that ever-strange Blue. “They’re quite conveniently short a Professor. And Alois has probably already recommended you to Rhea.”

  
  


“Well then.” Byleth said, monotone as ever, but irritation was clear in his eye, “You can be the Captain, Billy can be a Professor, and I’ll go back to the merc life. Sound good?”

  
  


Billy gasped dramatically. “You’re just gonna abandon me?”

  
  


Jeralt shook his head. “Something tells me it ain’t gonna be that easy kid. The Church is quick to make use of those who work for them. And anyone else they deem useful. You two just happen to be that.”

  
  


Two footsteps echoed behind them and they turned to face the newcomers. The one on the left was an aged, grey-haired man with a monocle in a brown, neat suit that looked like it came straight from an Alliance fashion store. The other a busty woman with an outfit that left little to the imagination and brown hair that curled around the sides of her face. The woman piped in a sultry voice, “So. You must be the new Professor, right? How stern and handsome you are~”

  
  


Jeralt took a step away from her advances and started to leave the room. “That’ll be those two - or one of them at least. Good luck.” He left hurriedly, not sparing a glance as he left his children to the wolves.

  
  


The woman blinked. "Oh, it's you two then? So young…" She glanced them over, and neither of the twins liked how her gaze lingered on Byleth's chest. He coughed which seemed to drag her attention back to his eyes.

  
  


"Age and competence are not necessarily correlated," the man said, "as you well know."

  
  


"How dare-"

  
  


"I am Hanneman, a Crest scholar and professor at the Officer's academy. I must ask if you have a Crest of your own? Please visit me when you have the time."

  
  


Billy scrunched up her nose and was thankfully dragged out of that conversation by the woman. "I'm Manuela; professor, physician, songstress… and available." Byleth made a show of looking away from her, "Lovely to meet you~" She glanced them over again when neither moved. "I'm assuming from that you two haven't heard of me? The star of Mittelfrank Opera Hou-"

  
  


"Spare our colleagues the needless chatter Manuela." Manuela huffed but said no more.

  
  


Byleth twisted to look at the door, calculating how quick he would get caught if he ran for it. He wondered if the glass behind the throne was particularly special. 

  
  


“Now then, it seems you’ll be taking charge of one of the academy’s three houses. I don’t know how this will work with the four of us, but I’m sure Rhea has an idea.” Hanneman continued, “I expect you haven’t yet been briefed on the nature of each, have you?”

  
  


The songstress’ eyes widened again before settling to something sweet and calm. “Do you really not not know? Fine, I’ll do you a favour and explain.”

  
  


Byleth tuned out, uninterested.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dimitri stood up straight, the sun smiling on his face. He held his hands behind his back, simply observing the courtyard,occasionally leaning to glance into the Blue Lions’ classroom, making sure all were okay. It was loud in there, despite only housing seven people; likely Sylvain, Felix and Ingrid causing all the hubbub, but then again, Mercedes and Annette could be pretty loud too when they wanted to be. At least Ashe was fairly quiet, same for Dedue. 

  
  


The Golden Deer house was louder; Claude stood directly outside of it, his hands raised behind his head and his pose lax, whistling a tune unfamiliar to Dimitri. How Claude put up with all the noise was astounding when other passing students jumped.

  
  


He checked left, right and left again, curious to see when those two mercenaries would arrive. It was only recently he’d been informed by Seteth they were due to become Professors after their last one fled and was promptly fired.

  
  


Would one of them pick the Blue Lions? It was an interesting thought. The girl - Billy, was it? - seemed fun and would likely make the lessons interesting, but her brother - By… Byleth? - was clearly more experienced and took battle more seriously, even if he seemed rather cold.

  
  


Hanneman could also teach them again like last year, or maybe Manuela this time if they chose another house. He wasn’t particularly fond of the thought of going up against them.

  
  


Would they both be teaching a house? One each and have Hanneman or Manuela not teach? It brought up many questions but Dimitri was certain they’d be answered in time.

  
  


He tapped his foot in the grass, tuning out the classroom sounds and honing in on the birdsong, the gentle crinkle of leaves, the rustle of the trees in the wind. The courtyard was one of the more peaceful places in the Monastery when it was empty of students. Usually they were dispersed and the land, the sounds, the scents could lull anyone to sleep. Dimitri would be lying if he said he hadn’t accidentally fallen for a nap here but he _was_ studying for an assessment!

  
  


“Dimitri! Claude!” Edelgard’s voice rose from the hallway. Two sets of eyes, bright green and stark blue focused on her. She stepped out from the stone pillars for a moment. “Come here!”

  
  


The duo shared a glance from across the stretch and jogged over. “Yeah?”

  
  


“The professors. We gotta go to them and introduce ourselves, they’re not coming to us. They're just in the hall.”

  
  


Without another word the trio ducked into the shadows of the archway and entered the reception hall, greeted by a… sight.

  
  


“Co...Operate!” Billy snarled, desperately pushing Byleth who stood straight with his arms folded, at an angle so his heels dug into the floor. His expression was sour, a slight downcurve of the lips signifying as much.

  
  


“Oh my Goddess... you bastard!” She gave another shove as everyone else in the hall stared, too shocked to move. A tiny girl trying to scoot an extremely tall man across the room. 

  
  


“I don’t want to be here.” He stated.

  
  


“I am… aware…”

  
  


“I want to leave.”

  
  


“Still very much aware..”

  
  


“Let me leave.”

  
  


Billy sighed and sidestepped out of the way, folding her arms sternly as Byleth unfolded his, falling backwards and barely catching himself. His expression went to what looked like mild amusement. She surveyed the room and caught a mix of red, blue and yellow, and her expression lit up.

  
  


“Hey, you three! I uh… Sorry about that!” She strolled over, hand on her neck and smiling. The tension that veiled the room burst at her words and conversation resumed. Now, it seemed, no one wanted to look. “Just forget you saw that. He’s an ass.”

  
  


Byleth stood still, observing Billy. “Well…” Edelgard started, struggling to regain her calm expression, “We heard you accepted a teaching position here.”

  
  


“Pity. I was all hoping you’d come back to the Alliance with me.” Claude winked and Billy shrugged.

  
  


“You probably gathered, but we don’t have much of a say in this whole ordeal.” Byleth’s gaze pierced through Billy’s light-hearted banter, remaining in spirit even after he decided to scrutinize a part of the floor.. “For the moment, we just gotta learn about your houses and such.”

  
  


Dimitri swallowed and forced a smile. “Well, I’d be happy to tell you about the Blue Lions! We all hail from Faerghus. I uh- oh! I never properly introduced myself.” He looked mortified at the realisation. 

  
  


He spoke loudly so Byleth, still halfway across the room would hear.“I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd the Second, heir to the throne in Faerghus. B-but here, I am just a regular student.” He seemed to stumble over himself in a hurry to not seem full of his title.

  
  


“I am the princess and heir apparent to the Adrestian Empire, Edelgard von Hresvelg.” She gave a short curtsey and turned to look at Claude. He shrugged.

  
  


“You know me. Next Duke to the Alliance.”

  
  


Billy gaped. “Wait wait wait; so you’re _all_ heirs to your countries? _Holy shit._ ” She smiled at them as they cringed at her language, then turned over her shoulder to yell at Byleth, now focused on a passing Aegir cat. “Y’hear that? They’re all pretty important nobles!”

  
  


Byleth snorted and focused that deep blue gaze on the four. “And yet I’m punished for helping. I was hoping for something more… monetary?” He muttered the loud bit just loud enough to hear.

  
  


Dimitri frowned at the words. Was he only interested in gain?

  
  


“So uh… tell me about your classes? Who’s in ‘em?” The three sprung at the opportunity to once again shatter the uncomfortable tension that curdled the previously light-hearted room. Byleth slowly made his way over to the conversation. His boots didn't so much as clicked as he walked across the immaculate tiled floor.

  
  


The three each divulged into long descriptions of their classes, talking over each other in hurry, appraising and criticising those they worked besides. Billy listened intently, but clearly zoned out from the talking a few times.

  
  


It was hard to keep talking when Byleth’s eyes burned into them. Was he still expecting something? It seemed like he was merely listening and observing, analysing. It was like Edelgard had done, though more intense. And yet…

  
  


Dimitri, though uncomfortable as he latched praise after praise to his classmates, felt something different in Byleth’s gaze. Not that feeling of being objectified, but more like… Danger. He felt as if he was being accused of breing a threat or an ally. He could practically see the cogs in the male’s head turning. He felt as if he was in **danger**.

  
  


“...If you look up lazy in the dictionary, she won’t be there because she never got around to submitting it. Not too unusual for a noble I gue-”

  
  


Claude cut himself off when Byleth points a finger at Dimitri. The prince in turn stared at the digit, that sense of peril flooding him. Byleth’s eyes were penetrating and isolated his shuddering core.

  
  


“You. Tell me about yourself.”

  
  


His voice was monotonous, no aggression to speak of. Not even curiosity. But that feeling forced Dimitri to answer.

  
  


He coughed awkwardly. “M-me? Oh… Um. Please forgive me; it’s difficult to open up on the spot, don’t you think?” He smiled, but Byleth only blinked, waiting. He swallowed. "I’m afraid my story has not been a pleasant one… I-I do hope that doesn’t colour your view of me, but I understand if it can’t be helped.”

  
  


Byleth cocked an eyebrow and drew his hand back, but his slight nod of the head pressed on. Dimitri’s throat went dry. 

  
  


It was likely just the fear of knowing someone clearly stronger than him, someone so intimidating, wanted to know more about him triggering a fight or flight response. After all, he had witnessed this mercenary kill a towering man with a single slice of the sword. He was a threat, whether he intended to be or not.

A hare doesn’t tell a wolf how fast it runs. 

  
  


They remained in silence for a few moments and as Dimitri opened his mouth to continue, to perhaps divulge into his expertise in spears, Edelgard took the moment to shift the spotlight, talking about herself. How people thought she was arrogant or distant - not like they were wrong, but it was still a rude remark.

  
  


Although Byleth listened, his mind was fishing for answers. This was the boy he’d saved. Dimitri. Too polite. Suspiciously polite in a world of people like himself. 

  
  


Politeness alone didn’t incite a need to rescue. He was not so selfless to do such a thing, merely because someone was nice. No person was innocent enough for that.

  
  


Why was he willed to help him with… whatever that power was. He’d have to grill Sothis about it later, once he could figure out how to contact her. He’d also have to question her about _why in the name of actual fuck_ he had a girl living in his head.

  
  


The tailend of the conversation withered and dropped once the sky began to grow dark. The walk back to the Monastery must've taken longer than they'd thought. It had indeed been a long day for everyone. They said their goodbyes (at least, everyone except Byleth, who offered a curt raise of the hand) and parted ways, the twins heading back to the audience chamber, Billy yawning and Byleth suppressing one of his own.

  
  


Rhea smiled at them as they entered; Seteth, Hanneman and Manuela already waiting. “How are you enjoying your time at the academy thus far? I hope you have found our halls brimming with the vitality of well-intentioned souls.” 

  
  


“Hm. I suppose it is time for you to take charge of one of our three houses of students.” Seteth snarled at the duo, and for a second Byleth swore he saw something in his mouth glitter. “I must make you aware of the fact I am personally against entrusting someone as lacking in trackable history as yourself with such a task, but it is as the archbishop desires.” 

  
  


Billy looked to their senior professors. “How's it going to work though? There’s two of us and two of them and three houses and so…” She dwindled her fingers together in a childlike manner.

  
  


Manuela laughed and returned with a grin. “Don’t worry; one of us’ll take to doing something else. You two can be professors.”

  
  


She was clearly hoping to get out of her teaching position, it seemed. _‘Fuck’_ Byleth thought he maybe had a chance of not doing this, yet it seemed fate was not in his favour. _‘Sothis, if you can hear me, can you rewind to before this fucking day began?’_ he mentally yelled into the depths of his own, empty mind. Even if Sothis did as he asked, a weird feeling in his stomach said he'd still try to help the boy. _'Why?'_

  
  


“Please new professors, you may choose first.” Seemed Hanneman was just as eager to get out of teaching, though much better at masking it.

  
  


“The Golden Deer!” Billy was quick to pipe. Because of course she’d go with the guy she’d picked originally. She always had leniency towards those familiar to her, even if all three were new. That minor introduction made all the difference.

  
  


Manuela and Hanneman offered nothing, waiting with baited breath for the final verdict. “Your heart had made its choice, then. And you, Byleth?”

  
  


Edelgard and Dimitri.

  
  


The decision for him was obvious. He did not trust Edelgard so readily, even if trust at all was a lofty request. 

  
  


“... Blue Lions.” He muttered.

  
  


Manuela snapped her fingers with an askance expression while Hanneman breathed a sigh of relief. She shrugged. “At least I got Dorothea. You got lucky you…” She caught Seteth’s stare, “...mean man.”

  
  


Rhea nodded, and an unfamiliar warmth came into her eyes. “It is done then. All I ask is that you guide these open minds with virtue, care and sincerity.” She let her eye meet Byleth’s narrowed ones and held back a laugh. “You will be receiving a sizeable allocation, a roof over your head, the food in the dining hall and access to all of the monastery’s facilities.”

  
  


The hostile look in Byleth’s eyes retreated at the words, satisfied that he would be receiving something other than a headache. 

  
  


Satisfaction. Irritation, anger and satisfaction; the three things Byleth could feel with strength. He only liked one of them.

  
  


“Brother? Brother I-” A short girl holding the appearance of a young teen ran in, vibrant twin drills bouncing in her shoulders, “Oh! I am so sincerely sorry! I did not mean to interrupt.”

  
  


Seteth offered a sigh. There sure were a lot of green-haired people in here. “I am in the middle of something Flayn. Is it urgent?”

  
  


“I- no, no, it can wait… May I ask who these are?”

  
  


“These are to be the new professors of the Blue Lions and Golden Deer.” Flayn’s face lit up. Her dress was immaculate, poofy around the wrists and billowing under the rather high waistline ribbon.

  
  


“Oh my! A new addition to the Officers Academy! I am so very pleased to meet you Professors!” She seemed unfazed by Byleth, but then again, his irritation had been mostly veiled.

  
  


Billy waved at her, smiling in a way you would to a child. “I am Seteth’s little sister, Flayn. I am so very happy to make your acquaintance.”

  
  


“Let us focus on the topic at hand.” He dismissed his sister speedily, “There is something you should be aware of. In a few days’ time, there will be a mock battle between the three houses, intended to gauge the current progress of the students. We will be using this battle as an opportunity to ascertain your own abilities as well. Please do not disappoint the archbishop. That is all.”

  
  


All were dismissed at that moment, though Seteth turned left to enter a room Byleth had noticed earlier, but the doors were locked. He glimpsed a silver key in his hand before he left.

  
  


The twins were shown to their rooms by that excitable knight, Alois. Billy took a homely wooden cabin dorm at the end of the lower rooms. It was much like the winter cabins Jeralt had set up when they were in the Kingdom forests and the weather turned harsh. It brought a feeling of warmth to Byleth, remembering the soft flames as fresh kill was skinned and cooked. He could practically smell it. Billy happily hopped into the room and jumped onto the bed, fanning out, and Alois took that as incentive to move on.

  
  


Byleth took a stone room on the second floor on the opposite end to Billy’s, a cold and dreary room though it did not bother him greatly. It was a small room that looked like it was previously a storage room; a wooden bed with red quilts, a pillow with feathers hanging out, a wardrobe with a cracked mirror on the side, and a desk stocked with writing equipment. It was minimalist, and some may say claustrophobic, but it held everything Byleth needed, so he was satisfied.

  
  


The door let in a shred of the cold blue lights of the night. He wasn’t interested in stargazing tonight. 

  
  


He picked up the calendar and looked to find the moon - the Great Tree Moon - with a date marked for the fourth. The upcoming mock battle. Yes, a battle would ease off the tension a little. 

  
  


He picked up the white quill from a spilling, fresh inkpot and lifted the hefty notebook from the corner, opening it. He scrawled a title and a few basic notes, but with such little knowledge of his to-be class, he could do little. He was not told the arrangements, nor where it would be held, though he guessed that would be an issue for tomorrow. His handwriting was scrawled and messy anyway, and he was sure even with the bare he'd written, there'd be spelling mistakes. The sword skills had been primarily ingrained in his muscle memory, so writing was not a strong suit, though he could read with relative fluidity, not that he did either often.

  
  


Sighing, he closed the book with a _thump_ and pulled the bedsheet back, removing his armour and shirt before falling into bed. His still heart ached under the open scar at the movement but settled as it always did.

  
  


He did not pull the cover over him. The squat room was cold to the bone and it left him with a chill. He regretted taking his shirt off, but had no energy, physical nor mental, to lean over and retrieve it from the floor, nor to warm himself with the bitter blanket. He could handle the cold. He’d handled it before. That's how he usually felt anyway.

  
  


Waves of sleep numbed his sharp mind, but he was restless. It had been quite a day for him. He turned over again.

  
  


_“Stop moving, jackass.”_

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Have you no intention of changing your mind Rhea? Appointing strangers - children no less! - as professors at our esteemed academy is-”

  
  


“I have made my decision, Seteth.”

  
  


The velvet pall of the moon sent shy slivers of silver through the glass windows within the advisor’s room. Dim candles struggled to keep the icy room warm and alight, orange wisps dully lighting the gold of Rhea’s ornaments where blue crowned it like a holy relic. 

  
  


“I know worrying comes naturally to you, but there truly is no need. These ‘strangers’ are Jeralt’s flesh and blood after all.” Her voice was serious, high cheekbones illuminated by the moon, her mature face set stern.

  
  


Seteth huffed, Rhea’s shadow casting over him. “I can’t say that’s all too comforting. How trustworthy is this Jeralt character? Is he not the man who went missing after the Great Fire 21 years ago?” A glance left and right searching for ears in the walls, “I would remind you that Flayn is now here with us as well. I beg of you… please consider whether this is an unnecessary risk.”

  
  


Rhea raised a slender hand for his silence. “Seteth. They have my trust. Let that be enough for you as well. Besides,” She looked away, a fierce light striking her eyes and Seteth saw once more the woman from a field of battle, hardened by toil, “you felt it too, did you not?”

  
  


Looking down, Seteth sighed, defeated. “I- yes. That is what Flayn came to say earlier. But… Are you certain…” He could find no words to continue.

  
  


“We must hope. If we can keep him in this condition I doubt it will be too much hassle. He has already been poisoned; we cannot allow further stray from our plan."

  
  


Seteth nodded at the ground solemnly.

  
  


Rhea’s eyes flashed with a momentary sympathy. “I have received a report from Shamir.” Seteth returned to his straight-shouldered stance. “I am increasingly concerned about a matter regarding our suspicious individual. We cannot ignore those who harbour ill will toward our Church, especially if they are frequenting Garreg Mach.”

  
  


The male nodded, green hair falling over the golden headpiece he donned. “Yes, that matter is of great importance as well. I shall continue my investigation.” With that he turns on his heel to leave, leaving Rhea to stand and watch his back.

  
  


“Rhea…” He paused, glancing over his shoulder as he produced the silver key. “For now, I will have faith that you are placing your trust with the utmost care. I pray that nothing occurs to shake that confidence.”

  
  


The archbishop smiles tenderly but offers no words. The dim blue darkened and set her crown all shades of darkness, orange lighting the side of her face. A familial light flickers to life, and Seteth swore he could see a blue and orange halo alight around her crown.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dimitri writhed under a thin inky blackness that tarred him to the dirt. Dancers of wildfire licked at his face and struck his fair skin, slicing instead of burning, blood slipping down his jaw and chin. The ever-familiar screams echoed in front, behind, above, below him, shrieks of those he loved crying out for help, begging for revenge. 

  
  


Lambert’s shadow detached from his body with a _crack_ and settled a misty hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, the prince, trembling on the floor under the blackness, unable to look up at his late father.

  
  


_“Dimitri…”_ The voice was sad and threatening. _“Why?... They are not yet killed… Do you desire to rot in their place, beast?”_ Dimitri saw drips of white hit the ground in front of him. It pooled on his left hand and bit at the skin like an acid.

  
  


_“YOU’RE A MONSTER! A GODDAMN MONSTER!”_ A shrill cry from his step-mother, her voice echoed and despair-ridden. He didn’t know who she was cursing though he could hazard a guess.

  
  


Lambert’s heaven-white eyes dripped like wax from a candle. _“We’re hungry Dimitri… Avenge us… Or we shall feed on you…”_

  
  


Dimitri closed his eyes and cursed, red tears pouring from his face all scrunched up. “I will, I promise, I will, I will, you will have your revenge, I’ll kill them, please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

  
  


The screams went quiet as quickly as a bird falling from the sky. Dimitri opened his eyes to see silver snow beneath him, stained a deep crimson from his tears, and a sharp pain in his calf. 

  
  


Cries called out as quickly as he came to, crying out for fire but no such flame was felt. He was just cold and numb.

  
  


Shivering, he looked up, relieved to find the void that held him down released yet he could not raise himself. His blonde locks stuck to his head with water. The screams were dead ahead of him, only ahead of him.

  
  


A large, navy wolf sat a few metres in front of him, with the deepest blue eyes Dimitri had ever seen. They were enrapturing, almost beautiful had he not been so shaken. The screams resonated from its eyes, jet black pupils focused on him. He could almost see the flames flickering in those mirrors but alas, they held only the forest behind him.

  
  


Fear ran down Dimitri’s spine, a sense of danger washing over him, nullifying his senses. His heart pounded like a rabbit’s but his limbs were stuck, his leg still in pain. He dared to take his eyes off the predator for a second to glance back. A bear trap’s teeth dug into his leg and showed no signs of letting up. He could see blood spilling from the wound and sprouting from the marred flesh, a rose painted red, thorns digging into the lip of the wound.

  
  


He returned his eyes to the wolf to see it now standing, but moved no closer. It’s fur was thick, haloed by the azure moon behind it, eyes seemingly glowing. The coat ruffled as a wind blew past and it looked almost ethereal, but that sense of danger would not leave.

  
  


Verdant grass that survived the snowfall was crushed underneath the wolf’s paws as it took two steps forward, and Dimitri was still frozen in place, ice creeping up his legs and frostbite attacking his fingers.

  
  


He noticed a deep scar on the wolf’s face, looking very much like a burn mark. It certainly smelt like burning flesh, though the creature appeared unperturbed.

  
  


His breath quickened, and the screaming emanating from the wolf’s eyes grew louder.

  
  


Suddenly, it’s mouth was blood soaked, a sword driven up through it’s jaw and out between it’s ears yet it walked foward, spilling deep ichor among the white. It raised a paw to Dimitri’s face. The paws were similarly soaked.

  
  


Spots of yellow, orange and red invaded Dimitri’s vision as it did so, the smell of smoking clogging his nose and the paw warped to a hand, pointing to him. The moon cast a loud purple spotlight on him. Danger.

  
  


“You.” The wolf spoke, voice grizzled, sounding like everyone Dimitri had ever known at once. 

  
  


Danger.

  
  


Dimitri choked, his throat dry, unable to find the words. 

  
  


_Danger._

  
  


“Tell me." 

  
  


Blood dripped from its maw. 

  
  


**_Danger._ **

  
  


"Who are you really?” 

The beast wasn’t angry. 

  
  


Dimitri couldn't answer the wolf.

  
  


**_Danger._ **

  
  


After all, the hare doesn't tell the wolf how fast it runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit; grammar
> 
> i mentioned this last chapter briefly, but byleth is taller than all the lords and billy is shorter. i really wanted to push how different the twins were, and just how intimidating byleth is
> 
> thanks for reading!! xxx


	3. blue fire white

A rapid knocking on Byleth’s door disturbs him from his slumber and a flat pain over his torso. At some point in the night it seemed he’d rolled onto his stomach and triggered that ache in his scar. He vaguely remembered someone telling him to  _ ‘stop fidgeting’ _ last night. Did he turn before or after that, he was unsure, not that he cared.

  
  


Sleep-addled, he took a few moments to gain his bearings. The room was still chilly, but it had warmed through the stone a tad. A window he had not noticed before was still closed, but orange lights filtered through gently, lighting flecks of dust.

  
  


He shifted, pulling himself from his hazy daze and turning over, letting his hair go wild over the pillow. He had no energy to get up. He was usually tired in the mornings but today seemed to have hit him especially hard.

  
  


The knocking started up again and Byleth’s stomach growled. It only now occurred to him he didn’t eat dinner last night. For someone with an appetite like his, it was unusual for him to forget. Speaking of unusual…

  
  


_ ‘Sothis? You there?’ _ At least his thoughts spoke moderately clear; no doubt his speech would be slurred until he regained his energy. It was likely her that spoke last night.

  
  


“Professor?” Another knock. The voice of whom it belonged to slipped his mind. “Are you alright in there?”

  
  


He groaned as he lifted himself from the bed and leant down to pick up his belt, clipping it back onto his pants. “Mmhmmmm… Wuz th’problem?” His voice was tired and falling as he predicted.

  
  


“Ah! I was just wondering if you’d come to my office so I could check for a crest!” Crests, crests… Hanneman was the crest scholar if he recalled correctly. Byleth rubbed his face, trying to knock the sleep out of his eyes and opened the window above the desk. He got momentarily blinded as the light hit his face. 

  
  


It wasn’t particularly late, the sun just barely peering over the stone walls. In fact, it was earlier than he was usually woken.  _ ‘How does Old Guy seem so peppy at this time…’  _ He squinted and dismissed the thought.

  
  


Hanneman started knocking again. “Professor? Answer me please.”

  
  


Byleth sighed and dragged his feet to the door and opened it. Needless to say, he looked a mess. His hair was in all different directions, the bags under his eyes looked particularly heavy and a small snarl had settled on his lips. Irritation.

  
  


“Oh wow, you look- Nevermind, by now you should be up! Professors are supposed to rise early. Your sister’s up already…” Hanneman’s eyes trailed to the wound on Byleth’s cheek and trailed down. It ran down his neck, over his collarbone and onto his heart. There, it spread down to his hip, across left over his chest and right around his back.

  
  


The closer to the heart it was, the darker and more purple it was, save for a white burst in the middle of it. It looked strained and painful.

  
  


Byleth clicked his fingers. “‘Ey, eyezup, what’sh’th’deal?” He snapped, barely comprehensible and Hanneman’s attention instantly returned to the dark gaze.

  
  


“Yes, apologies. I have just never seen a scar so bad before. Ahem, anyways. When you are ready, could you please go to my office? It’s by the Audience Chamber, down the hall and on the second right.” He said, nodding, clearly trying to keep his eyes off the dark red monstrosity on Byleth’s skin.

  
  


“Ri’t, goddit. Byeee.” He slurred and closed the door before anything else could leave Hanneman’s mouth.

  
  


Byleth hadn’t properly processed what the conversation was about frankly - he’d morealess just agreed. Something about seeing him later…? His mind couldn’t comprehend anything without energy.

  
  


Sighing, he grabbed his shirt from the ground and pulled it over his head, the robe-like extensions of the tunic flowing around his calves, the cool fabric teasing his already-cold skin.

  
  


He needed to eat before whatever Old Guy asked of him. His mind wasn’t going to work properly unless.

  
  


_ “Wow, you are useless in the mornings, huh?” _ Byleth startled and whipped around, only to remember the girl in his head. 

  
  


_ ‘Hello again Sothis. Nice for you to drop in. Why are you here? What was that time thing?’ _

  
  


_ “Okay, right into questions I see. I’ve just woken up too y’know. Ugh, gimme a minute.” _ Byleth could hear her breath as she stretched, and then it went quiet again.  _ “I’m tired right now. Go eat something, I’m hungry. Food first, speak second.” _ She said, as if he wasn’t planning on doing so already.

  
  


With that, she silenced and he could not call her back (not that he particularly wanted to). Food was his top priority.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The queue for the breakfast canteen was thinning significantly now as Dedue offered to help Annette and Dorothea cook, his speed quelling the other students’ complaints. Dimitri smiled at Dedue as he came up to the front of the queue which was briefly returned.

  
  


“I’ll have the, uh,” he looked at the selection in front of him. He went for the first thing that came to his eye, “poached eggs with toast and orange juice please.” He quickly said, unwilling to hold up the queue. He really needed to get into the habit of seeing what was being served before getting in line.

  
  


He watched Dedue bark an order and a startled Annette quickly started to pour out a cup of orange, nearly smashing the glass in haste. The taller man kept a keen eye on the eggs cooking in the pan, careful not to burn them.

  
  


“Will you be sitting with me when you’re done?” Dimitri asked as Dedue grabbed a spatula and lifted a yellow-leaking egg onto the cheap crockery.

  
  


“Of course, Your Highness.” Dedue plainly responded, and Dimitri felt his heart sink at the formalities.

  
  


“You are not obligated to, but I will save you a space.” He leaned over to grab the plate from his friend’s hands. It smelt wonderful, as did any meal from Dedue, and he smiled again. “Don’t take too long.” He chirped, and Dedue gave an affirmative before the house leader wandered to find a table.

  
  


The hall was rather filled despite the early hour, most being up by now were the early-birds and Professors. Once they cleared out, the other students who woke up at a, quote unquote, ‘more normal time’ - according to Sylvain - would file in. It had been that way for the past years Dimitri had been at the academy.

  
  


He couldn’t spot either of the new Professors in the hall, which, to be fair, would be expected given it was their first day. They’d have to learn the swing of things.

  
  


Felix glared at Dimitri as he sat down at his table, on opposite ends. He sat with Caspar and Leonie - though annoying, they shared a love of fighting and that at least made some half-decent company. Still bugged him to no end though, the lone wolf he was.

  
  


“Morning Felix.” Dimitri lazed a smile for a moment, giving the late greeting, and picked up his fork. Felix only tutted and continued on his own meal, eating quickly as to get out of the chatter soon.

  
  


Caspar however was much more welcoming. “Morning Your Highness! How are ya?” Dimitri let a soft simper spread on his face again.

  
  


“Quite well actually, yourself?”

  
  


“M’doing great! I managed to get in some really early training today - though some monks kicked me out for causing a ruckus. Still, I needed that stretch. Gotta get back into routine.” He laughed, and idle chatter between the two continued for a few long minutes. Leonie chipped in here and there, but it seemed she was much more interested in prattling on about Jeralt’s return.

  
  


“I can’t believe it! He’s back! Do you think he’s going to stay?” Felix scoffed and Caspar shrugged.

  
  


Felix finally made some conversation. “I hope so. I’d love to test his mettle. And his kids’. And beating them.”

  
  


Dimitri sighed. “Now Felix, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  
  


As if on cue, a tall figure shuffled by Dimitri’s side holding a plate that smelt quite divine and sat across from him, slumping over. The prince was ready to greet Dedue until he realised it was not Dedue; it was the Professor.

  
  


He swallowed as he gave Byleth the table a quick once over. “Good morning, Professor!” He tried to smile, but he could not calm his nerves around the man. Byleth scoffed.

  
  


“Tsk, ‘good’.” He parroted with sarcasm, “Har’ly so... Mornin’.” His voice was a slur in comparison to the eloquent, sharp tongue he possessed the previous day. Dimitri noticed his expression was not the stern, disgraced expression but softer, though it was clearly disgruntled. His hair stuck up in all directions, his clothes were sloppily put on and he just generally looked tired.

  
  


Dimitri swallowed. The other three at the table had also stopped talking in favour of looking at the storm cloud across them. Leonie’s mouth was agape; with shock, excitement or disgust, he could not tell. Caspar and Felix just looked confused, having not seen him before.

  
  


It was quickly clear Byleth was not interested in introducing himself.

  
  


“This is Byleth. The one that saved me? I told you yesterday.” Felix scrunched up his nose.

  
  


“ _ Him? _ This hardly fits the description you gave.” That much was true. Dimitri had exaggerated a little in his excited state. That was before the awkward run-in with Byleth once they arrived back at the Monastery, which had staggered his opinion slightly. Still, the slight at the Professor was rude and uncalled for.

  
  


“Felix! Show some respect!” He said through grit teeth.

  
  


Byleth waved a dismissive hand, speaking with a mouthful of food. “I unestly don’care. I’m used t’ be’n’shlandered.” Dimitri gaped. It was a mix of  _ ‘this guy should not just take that’, ‘what are you saying’ _ and  _ ‘sir please close your mouth sir please where are your manners  _ **_sir’_ ** .

  
  


The mercenary was wolfing down the food quickly, as though it would disappear if he stopped. His eyes looked at the plate in front of him but they were unfocused and hazy. Who knows where his attention was at that moment. Felix had a clear look of disgust and Dimitri, raised with the best possible manners, tried not to stare. Leonie and Caspar however seemed fine with the vulgarity.

  
  


“Yeah Professor! You get it! Gotta eat it nice and quick before it’s cold.” Caspar exclaimed, glad to find someone on the same wavelength as him.

  
  


Leonie shrugged, “When you have priorities, you gotta stick to them.”

  
  


Dimitri looked away and simply continued hacking away at his own plate. He ate fairly slowly so that when Dedue came, they’d have time to eat together, though he knew Dedue would say it was fine.

  
  


Byleth had a fair bit more than the others on the table on his plate. Mercenaries had many stereotypes surrounding them, and being messy eaters with little table manners was one of them. It seemed that stereotype was not as much of a lie as they’d heard.

  
  


“So, Professor,” The prince started, unsure of where to take the conversation, “how are you liking the monastery so far?” 

  
  


Byleth swallowed a mouthful. “S’okay. ‘Aven’t seen much yet. Gotta look ‘round today.” His speech was fixing itself it seemed, and his eyes lit up a little. It seemed he was waking up now. He kept his words as to the point as he could, no needless details.

  
  


Dimitri tapped his fingers together. He really was trying to be polite but it was hard when said converser was scarfing down food at a hard-to-watch pace and he didn’t seem like answering. Plus, he didn’t want to risk seeing his poor manners again. Byleth took a swig of… was that rum? Smelt it. He took to the opportunity of not eating to try again.

  
  


“I’m quite excited for you to work here. You were amazing in that battle. I must thank you again.” Byleth just nodded his head, straightening out his shoulders and his expression hardening. “What class are you teaching?” 

  
  


“Y’rs.”

  
  


“I beg your pardon?”

  
  


“Your class. Blue Lions”

  
  


Before Dimitri could say anything further, two slim hands grabbed Byleth by the shoulders and lent down to his ear.

  
  


“Hey, bro, Hanneman wants you. We were waitin’.” Billy patted his cheek like a mother would to her child and sat down next to him. He groaned.

  
  


_ ‘Ah yes. That.’ _

  
  


Billy laughed at his disruption. “C’mon, just wants to see if you wave a crest! I don’t, though I’m not surprised to be honest.” She smiled at him, then looks to Dimitri. “Hey dude!” He lifts a hand but is too thrown off to say anything.

  
  


Byleth raises from his seat, grabbing his bread. “Stay. I don’t want it taken away.” His speech seemed to have returned to normal, but there remained a slight hunch in his shoulders and a hobble in his step. 

  
  


She giggled at him again and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”

  
  


They watched him walk relatively-straight out of the dining hall. Once he left Billy swivelled around the face Dimitri.

  
  


“So you’re the Prince of Faerghus, right?”

  
  


“You would be correct.” He thought his reply was far too uptight, but the sudden shift in demeanor from one sibling to another was odd.

  
  


She stared at him for a hard moment, dark blue eyes scanning his lighter ones. She lent over the table slightly, hands folded under her chin and mouth poised so it looked like she was about to say something but nothing came. Dimitri took the moment to take in her appearance. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders and front, loosely combed, curling over her fair, cut-scarred skin. Her outfit was near identical to her brother’s, excluding her bare arms, cleavage and naval. He tilted his head at her.

  
  


“D...Dm… What’s your name again?” 

  
  


Dimitri did not let the hurt expression pass to his face. “Dimitri.” Felix snorted a laugh.

  
  


Billy repeated the name to herself a few times. “I’ll try to commit that to memory; I make no promises. I struggle to remember Cloud’s name and I picked his house - Yellow Deer, was it?.”

  
  


“His name is  _ Claude _ . And it’s  _ Golden  _ Deer.” Her forgetfulness had a weird sort of charm to it. “Were his previous attempts to win you over successful then?”

  
  


Billy shrugged and smiled. “I guess.” Her eyes flicked behind Dimitri. “Hey! This your friend?”

  
  


Dedue sat down slowly and silently next to Dimitri, setting his plate of ham, sausage and tomato down in front of his seat. “Greetings. I am Dedue, His Highness’ vassal.” Billy threw her eyebrows up a little and nodded.

  
  


“Respectable dude. Hey, you at the end of the table. What about yourselves, you’re staring at me.” Leonie quit her intense gaze as quickly as she started and coughed.

  
  


“Leonie Pinelli. Apprentice to Jeralt. It’s honestly pretty great to meet you. Was that your brother earlier?”

  
  


“Yeah, twin, he’s a dick. And you’re Leonie? I’ve heard quite a bit about you!” Leonie gasped with an excited  _ ‘really?’ _ and quickly began to exchange conversation. Dimitri just sighed quietly - a gesture not unnoticed by Dedue.

  
  


“Are you alright, Your Highness?” He asked, concern lacing his monotone voice.

  
  


“I- yeah. It’s just that the guy I was telling you about - he’s gonna be our Professor.” He shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat. “I… don’t know how to feel about it yet. I-I know you haven’t met him yet, he’ll be back soon-ish. I told you.” 

  
  


“If he makes you feel threatened I can get rid of him.” 

  
  


“Psssh, please, I’d like to see you try.” Billy interrupted before Dimitri could scold. “Girl, guy, black, white, dog, fish; he doesn’t care who he has to strike down.  Don’t let his middle-aged-dad-vibes throw you. He’s pretty **dangerous**.” She pointed to Dimitri. “He knows.”

  
  


Dimitri winced for a second at the memory of a sword being driven through the bandit’s mouth into his skull and out the back; certainly one of the more painful ways to go. Even for a mercenary it seemed a cruel way to kill. At least it was a quick death… He hoped.

  
  


“Ah, yes. He was quite astounding in that battle. As were you.” He couldn’t place why he felt so uncomfortable around Byleth. Sure, his personality wasn’t exactly good and he definitely looked like a killer, but he did save his life. Though, it did seem he only did it for personal gain; Dimitri felt he should still be grateful to the person who helped him in dire time, but it was  _ so hard _ .

  
  


Billy swiped a piece of toast from Byleth’s cooling plate and bit off the end, chewing with her mouth open. Great, it seemed both of them lacked basic manners. 

  
  


“Look, if my bro freaks ya, lemme know. I’ll whip him into shape. And in the meantime I’m sure he’ll whip you into shape.” Dedue raises his eyebrows and turns to face Dimitri. The smile on his lips was strained, breaking when he’d dip down to take a bite. She tore off another chunk of toast and quickly swallowed. “He means well… I think.”

  
  


A few minutes of cloddish conversation was occasionally thrown around, but most opted to just enjoy the meal in silence. Billy was the one that kept sparking a flame to talk but it ultimately went nowhere.

  
  


“Back.” A baritone voice came from a little away from the table, and Dimitri hesitated to look up at the tall figure. 

  
  


The slouch that had rested in his shoulders withered, almost completely upright. It appeared the only essense of tiredness that remained on his stock-still face were the eyebags, but those had been there since yesterday. That sharp, short speech came back too.

  
  


Byleth slid back into his place, Billy giving a short chirp of a greeting, hiding the piece of toast she’d taken from his view. “How’d it go?”

  
  


He rolled a shoulder back with a short crack, and leaned across Billy to take his toast back. “Got a crest.”

  
  


Billy snatched the toast away from him. “Really? What kind?” He made another attempt to reclaim his meal before she shoved the rest of it in her mouth.

  
  


“He doesn’t know. Undiscovered, apparently. He needs more of my blood and stuff.” He said, and returned to his meal, now cold, and ate what was still appetising. Crumbs fell messily from Billy’s face.

  
  


“That'sh real coo’!? How are you sho chill ‘bout thish?” With a mouthful of bread, the words were hard to understand. “You know anything atall?” Byleth shook his head briefly, then reconsidered.

  
  


“Something about a lack of symmetry. He mumbled it to himself. I don’t know. Eat.” His eyes flicked back up to the Prince, then to Dedue. He gave a small nod in greeting which he returned with the same enthusiasm. “Is this Dedue?”

  
  


Dimitri’s eye widened for a second. Had he really listened the other day? “I am.” Dedue answered for him, “The Prince’s vassal.”

  
  


“Please stop referring to yourself as such.”

  
  


“I am though.”

  
  


Leonie snorted from across the table, nearly choking on her own food. “It seems like you n’ the Professor will get along. Men of few words. Stubborn too, from what I’ve heard.”

  
  


It simultaneously was not a surprise and yet a total surprise that Leonie had already spoken to Jeralt, even with such a short time frame. Dimitri wondered if Leonie and Byleth had ever met before and if so, when? Then again, she never mentioned knowing them before, and with her fangirlish behaviour, it seemed a large detail to leave.

  
  


The rest of breakfast passed with ease. It was small talk mostly, all too unknowledgeable on the newcomers to make much more than chatter about the weather and training regiments. 

  
  


The stares of Byleth on Dimitri made him feel uncomfortable, though whenever he looked up or Dedue gave a glare, he shifted his attention before their eyes could meet. Byleth was likely analysing as he had before - at least he assumed that’s what he was doing. How much could you gauge about someone from the way they ate? Manners to social standing maybe, but that was about it.

  
  


Dimitri finally met the Professor’s eyes. “Will you show me around the Monastery once I have met the class?” He froze. Of course, there were maps, but little they would do if you didn’t have a basic understanding of the structure.

  
  


“Of course. Though, I suppose you’ve already acquainted with some of it?” Byleth nodded.

  
  


“A bit. It’s just the more finicky areas. Some are closed off it seems.”

  
  


“Yes, well, the faculty wanted to do some cleaning, but it appears it was not done in time. You can hear the building from the dorm room.”

  
  


Byleth mopped up the last of his egg with what remained of his toast. “I heard.”

  
  


He blinked. “You heard? Are you situated nearby then?”

  
  


“Upstairs, by the stairs.” So Byleth was sleeping in a student room near his own. He couldn’t recall there being empty rooms in the upstairs dormitory, but perhaps someone dropped out. “Is your classroom by the entrance hall?”

  
  


Dimitri cast a glance to Dedue, eyeing the Professor with suspicion that did not go unnoticed by the victim. “I’ll show you, if you’d like. And I can show you the area on the way. Cuts off a bit of work.” Byleth silently agreed, and Dimitri got to clearing his plate. Dedue moved to take the Prince’s plate, but his hand was gently batted away. “Stay and finish your meal Dedue. I’d like to get to know our Professor more.”

  
  


The Duscur man held Byleth in regard, now heading towards the door. “If you need me, let me know.” He leaned close to the Prince. “I know he helped you, but I cannot say I trust him too much.”

  
  


“I-” Guilt ran up Dimitri’s spine. “I am wary too. But we are at the Monastery. Why would he try anything?”

  
  


A final glare, and Dimitri was quickly pacing to the Professor’s side as they exited the back way, near the fishing pond.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Do you like to fish Professor?” Dimitri asked innocently. 

Byleth looked at the pond to his left, walking away towards the dormitories. It was a moderately sized pong with a metal grid and a small, splashing waterfall. A wearing dock creaked at the edge, a small fish market stationed ahead of it. The ever-familiar scent of fresh catch wafted by, the rising sun casting a ray of light onto the murky depths, where he could vaguely see the shadows of fish.

  
  


Fishing was a required skill for any good mercenary; if you were unable to acquire food, you would not live, even if it was only a small catch. He could not say he liked it per say, though reeling in a large catch gave him satisfaction, so he found himself doing it often. A hobby of sorts.

  
  


“Yes.” He did not quite feel like giving a full explanation.

  
  


He turned away from the pond and toward the dorms before the redundant memories of his father teaching him how to fish took over. He got no intel from reminiscing.

  
  


The Prince’s face fell a little. “What sort of fish do you like?”

  
  


Despite fishing often, Byleth was not too fond of the taste of fish unless it was breaded. A fat pig was much more up his alley, though seafood would suffice if it was needed.

  
  


He looked for the first name of a fish to come to mind. “Teutates pike.” Dimitri nodded, and gestured to the rooms.

  
  


“These are the dorms.” He’d gathered as much, having slept in one, “I’m on the top floor among other nobles. Uh, not that I really asked to be, but some nobles are more… finicky about their standing.”

  
  


Byleth pointed to the room at the very end. “My sister’s.” He craned his neck to see where the taller man was pointing. 

  
  


“Ah, next to Dedue’s! He’s rather quiet, so it should be quite nice to rest there; unlike some places.” He chose not to dwell on the nights he heard…  _ ‘sounds’  _ from Sylvain’s room.

  
  


They took a right under an archway to the courtyard. It was still fairly loud, though many students were now migrating to the dining hall. The Golden Deer room was near silent, save Leonie and Marianne having a very one-sided conversation. Ferdinand practically sprinted into the Black Eagles’ room, crying out for Petra’s attention.

  
  


The flag outside the Blue Lion’s room was neat, if a little ripped at the seams. The silver griffin on the front seemed to contradict the class’ name. “Why are you called the Blue Lions if that’s your flag.” The Black Eagles’ he understood, but he was not wholly sure of what Faerghus’ or the Alliance's coat of arms had to do with the name.

  
  


Dimitri jumped at the chance as they pushed open the wooden doors. “Well, Loog, King of Lions, was the one that won the kingdom our independence from the Empire.” That much he knew. “He was known for favouring the colour blue so Blue Lion was the obvious choice.”

  
  


“So why is the coat of arms a griffin?”

  
  


“Well-”

  
  


“Hey there!” A red-head called from across the room. Byleth eyed him. He had a slim figure with strong arms and long legs, a sharp face and caramel eyes. His uniform was unbuttoned and the collar inside-out. “Whoa, easy there buddy. No need to check out the goods so soo-”

  
  


“Are you Sylvain?” Dimitri had described him as a  _ ‘skirt-chaser’ _ . Byleth supposed such language was expected of a noble, but he much preferred _ ‘whore’ _ . There was a strength in his upper body that his lower body didn’t hold. “You study lance?”

  
  


Sylvain stared wide-eyed for a second. “Yes and yes. How do you know?”

  
  


“Blue told me.”

  
  


He watched Dimitri look up at him with confusion. “My name’s Dimitri.”

  
  


“I know.”

  
  


“... Anyway, this is Byleth, the person who saved me, and our new Professor.”

  
  


Sylvain gave him a quick lookover of his own as a gasp came from the corner. A scruffy, silver-haired boy with sun-dot freckles over his nose, cheeks and dabbling his forehead ran over. Small structure, slim shoulders, lean, good calves and a decent abdomen. Archery, or maybe an offensive mage.

  
  


“You’re our new Professor? Oh, I’m Ashe! It’s lovely to meet you.” He gave a small bow and Byleth simply observed. “His Highness has told us about you! Did you really fell the bandit leader with a single blow?”

  
  


“Indeed.”

  
  


Byleth shifted his gaze to the other figures in the room. Felix from the hall was there, chatting to a tall, blonde girl, tired back in a thick ponytail. There was a strength in her abdomen, shoulders and thighs, indicating she could use riding units. He could not recall a name to her - Dimitri mentioned a Mercedes and an Ingrid, but didn’t divulge enough for him to make a strong enough guess. He at least knew that she wasn’t Annette - he recognised her in the dining hall.

  
  


Dimitri followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s Ingrid. One of my childhood friends. She’s knightlier than most knights I know.” Ah, yes. He did mention something to that extent. “And Felix is sharp-tongued. I can’t say he’s particularly fond of me, but he’s amazing at the sword.”

  
  


Felix, overhearing the appraisal, scowled and Ingrid followed the view and waved. 

  
  


“There are three more yet to arrive-”

  
  


“Hello everyone! Oh? Who’s this?” Another girl with strawberry blonde hair and gentle blue eyes walked in, her hands delicately folded in front of her. She was relatively thin and dainty-looking, but given the pricks on her finger she was good with her hands. That likely made her a mage of sorts; Byleth would know, preferring magic himself.

  
  


“I’m the new Professor. Are you Mercedes?” She giggled and nodded, unfazed by his cold demeanor.

  
  


“Yep! It’s lovely to meet you Professor!” Dimitri filled her in on who he was exactly. Two more people. He’d met them, but still had to formally introduce himself to one.

  
  


Minutes passed and they finally heard the soft chatter of Annette and the stiff silence of Dedue as they returned from the dining hall, cooking duties finished finally. Annette gasped as she recognised the lean man.

  
  


“Oh, you! I took your order- wait, does this mean-? Ohhhh noooo, but I was talking to you so casually-”

  
  


“Please, do not fret yourself.” To say Byleth didn’t understand her actions would be an understatement. Fear he was used to seeing, but this was not quite that. “I am merely here to teach you for however long I must stay. Whether or not you choose to be comfortable with me is entirely up to you.”

  
  


He was met with a crowd of confused faces. What? Dimitri gave a clap of his hands for attention. 

  
  


“Professor, consider this the calm before the storm. We are a lively bunch, once you get to know us.” He flashed a friendly smile up at the Professor. “Do you have anything planned for our first day?”

  
  


Byleth observed them. “I was only shoved in here yesterday. I can safely say I am not too sure what I am doing.”

  
  


“If we’re not doing anything I’d like to test you in battle. If you’re really as strong as you say you are, you won’t cow out of it.” Felix snarled.

  
  


“At what point did I indicate I didn’t want to fight?”

  
  


Felix smirked at that. “We can go to the training grounds whenever you’re ready.”

  
  


“Count me in for any such battle!” Dimitri said, eager to be included, which garnered a heave of annoyance from his raven-haired classmate.

  
  


“I’d like to come along too! I wish to observe how you fight, for future reference.” Ashe came forward, to which Dimitri invited him to come along and fight.

  
  


Byleth tuned out to the needless banter at that point. A battle would be good for bonding purposes, he supposed. He could learn how they fight, weaknesses, strengths and so much more; how someone fought was, in Byleth’s eyes, like looking into their soul. How someone carried themselves, how quick their reactions were, reactions to pain, reactions to allies’ pain; if done for long enough, you could learn a good chunk about someone. If only other people had such an eye for the finer details.

  
  


“Let’s go then. Lead the way.” Felix was out the door in a heartbeat, his hand resting on the sheathed iron sword in his belt. Ingrid was quick to follow, calling him out on his crudeness, dragging Sylvain with her. Mercedes and Annette shared a laugh, Ashe walked behind the group, pulling out a small book and writing notes in it, and Dedue and Dimitri walked by one another in relative silence.

  
  


The air of awkwardness was not something Byleth could avoid; he was a crow in a flock of doves, so to speak. They already knew one another, while he was but a stranger.

  
  


Friendliess didn’t concern him, he thought. Just interested in them. But as the large double doors of the training ground grew nearer, silhouetted by the jay blue sky and blaze of sun, a spark ignited in Byleth. He liked fighting, so to speak. It didn’t excite him, but it made him feel something.

  
  


It made him feel…

  
  


…

  
  


_ It made him feel truly alive. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Manuela draped herself on the infirmary bed, bored senseless of Hanneman’s crest-infested ramblings. He was prattling on to Rhea about the new unknown crest, what he thought it could mean, and she listened with those soft doe eyes. Whether she was interested or simply being polite was hard to tell.

  
  


She leaned from her rest to grab a bottle of some alcohol she couldn’t be bothered to read the label of, popping the lid off with a manicured thumb and taking a gulp. Rhea didn’t notice. 

  
  


“It’s design seems almost lop-sided, and you can see here-” He pointed to a part of the crest drawing he’d made in haste, “it appears to be broken!”

  
  


Rhea studied the crest. The ovals and off-flicks seemed alright, sharp and still as they should be. But the fact that the bottom right of the crest was practically snapped off from the rest was a little more than concerning. Of course she’d seen what it was  _ supposed  _ to be - this confirmed her earlier suspicions - but the dents in it was unnatural.

  
  


“Do what you can to find out, Professor Hanneman.” She said gently, not letting the look of worry pass onto her face.

  
  


“Of course, Lady Rhea.” He bowed, and watched her leave, the ebb and flow of the ripples in her dress curling around her ankles like the tide. She was slow in her movements, as graceful as ever, and it wasn’t until she turned the corner and her footsteps faded away did he turn to his colleague. “What are you doing?”

  
  


Manuela shrugged and lay back in the bed, taking a sip of the bottle - and promptly choking on it from laying down. It spilled from her mouth onto the pillow and Hanneman could only look disappointed.

  
  


“Please, try to be professional. You never know when there could be a patient.”

  
  


“No one’s been sent out today, I’ve nothing to worry about. No one’s injuries are  _ that  _ bad.” She retorted, wiping her mouth and glaring at the stain as if that would make it go away.

  
  


“ _ That bad _ ? You should have seen the size of the scar on Professor Byleth’s chest!” Manuela gave him a teasing but curious look. “Not like that, old bitch.”

  
  


“Hey-”

  
  


“He answered the door and I saw it. The one on his face? Yes, it was attached to that. It was purple-y, red-y in colour. There was even a crusty-white-thing over the heart!”

  
  


Manuela threw up her eyebrows. “White on the heart? That’s… odd. I reckon it could be tissue of some sort but surely…” She tapped her finger to her chin in thought. No, tissue and muscle would not fair well exposed outside the skin. “Are you sure you eyesight isn’t failing you again, old bastard?”

  
  


He huffed. “I know what I saw. If someone came to the infirmary with  _ that _ , what would you do?”

  
  


“Ask Byleth for whatever he did, if that’s true.”

  
  


“Manuela, please!”

  
  


She stretched out on the bed before getting up and walking over to him, bottle still in hand. “Look; if I can take care of an entire arm being blown off, I can take care of a skin wound.” She waved the glass in his face, “And I can do it drunk, with one eye closed. Bet you.”

  
  


Rhea finally turned away from the door, not letting Silence dispell just yet. If they were aware she was listening in, the trouble she could get into…

  
  


White around the heart? Crusty? Irritated?

  
  


It sounded familiar. So, so horribly familiar. It seemed life wanted Rhea to be quick with her plans. Now that he was back at the monastery, there would be no doubt the effects would work quicker.

  
  


Her hand instinctively flew to her own heart, Silence finally leaving, the click of her heels loud in the echoes of the hall.

  
  


She had to tell Seteth. There was a change in plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy dont we love hanneman bullying manuela haha
> 
> yall might've gathered but when i say slow burn, i mean SLOW FUCKEN BURN. itll pick up soon????? idk, gotta plan the individual chapter better (i just write until i feel a new chapter is needed)
> 
> but honestly thanks so much for the support on the last chapter!!! it honestly made my day to receive those comments and kudos, but simply viewing this fic means to world!!
> 
> im not the most confident in my writing and im sure it shows, but im glad yall are finding it okay!
> 
> i havent finished crimson flower yet i should probably do that


	4. the curse of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for this taking so long; i got hit with a case of the depression and no motivation tm
> 
> i havent spell-checked this yet so sorry if theres anything wrong!

Dimitri. Dedue. Mercedes. Felix. Himself.

  
  


Why they were only allowed five students within the mock battle was, in Byleth’s opinion, stupid. He’d have liked to get a grasp on all of his students’ abilities together, not just when versing him. He wanted to see how they worked together, their strengths and weaknesses. The stuff that actually mattered on a battlefield.

  
  


Besides, gauging them solely on how they worked against him on the day he arrived was unfair to say the least; he’d been trained since his birth, and fighting was all he knew. These were nobles who, while wielding strength, were not people he’d consider in his roster. He overpowered them. At the very least, they did hold a challenge; they were vastly different and certainly could hold their own.

  
  


Even still, teamwork, as cliche as it sounded, was one of the most important assets in battle. One’s strength alone mattered little if there was nothing to back it up.

  
  


He sighed and tossed the feather quill against the book, a few drops of ink flying off and staining the paper, as if there weren’t already dalmatian spots covering it. The writing was only telligible to Byleth, else would assume it was chicken scratch. 

  
  


“I don’t like writing.” He said, to no one in particular, leaning back in the chair with a squeak. At the very least, he could loosely fill out the pages with what he knew of the students, and he’d studied the terrain quite thoroughly. The three he was allowed to choose would work well. 

  
  


_“Dedue’s pretty strong, I see why you chose him.”_ Byleth blinked.

  
  


_‘Sothis? So now you show up.’_

  
  


He could hear her grunt in his mind. _“What? I was busy and you were fighting! Not a lotta time between that, y’know?”_

  
  


“Will you answer my questions now?” He spoke aloud this time. It wasn’t as if she was there in flesh, but it was at minimum an improvement to the monotonic echos of his thoughts.

  
  


_“I- you haven’t had dinner yet. Write, food, then I’ll speak.”_ There was an agitation in her voice.

  
  


He paused and mulled over her words for a moment. It wasn’t late particularly, the sky a gentle pink blush over the dark hills and villages. He could still see the full circle of the sun and he did have yet to have dinner.

  
  


But, as hungry as he was, he wanted answers. “You said that this morning. I’d like to know now.”

  
  


_“But whyyyyyyyy?”_ There was a sudden thump that made the corner of his eyes go blurry. _“I think you should eat, and even so, there is no reason to tell youuuu.”_

  
  


“You sound like a child.” He was certain she was one. Sothis silenced, though he heard a few sputters. She was about to retort with something less than pleasant when he cut her off. “Don’t stall.”

  
  


_“Listen, if I don’t want to tell you, I don’t have to. You can’t even comprehend me properly, my answers will only confuse you further; I. Am. Above. You and your realm.”_

  
  


“... You don’t know, do you?”

  
  


A biting cold ran up his spine and his muscles involuntarily clenched. There was a gentle inhale. “You don’t know why you’re here, or what that was.”

  
  


_“Not entirely true but…”_ Repeated pats that sounded vaguely like footsteps echoed into his mind. _“I can hazard a guess at the time thing.”_

  
  


Byleth leaned forward to grab the book, quill and inkpot and stood, dragging himself over to the bed for a more comfortable perch. “A guess? Nothing more concrete?” He said, just catching the ink pot from spilling onto the sheets, earning a quite _‘so clumsy’_ under hidden breath.

  
  


_“Hey, you were the one that said I didn’t know, you should expect a half-assed answer. Anyway.”_ His vision blurred again as another, softer thump sounded. _“It was a temporary… ‘bump’ in time, I suppose. A step back from the present. Just something, I assume, to fix a mistake one has made. Or, something like that.”_

  
  


“I kinda figured that out when Billy was hit.” He ran the memory in his head. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall seeing much, if any blood. But he did remember that vague worry. At least, it felt very much like what Billy had often described to him.

  
  


Sothis ignored his comment. _“I’m having another one of those moments where I feel like I know what it’s called but I don’t know why. Like with my name earlier. ‘Divine Pulse’ is what keeps coming to my head, so, for now, I’ll call it that.”_

  
  


He scrawled a note of the _‘Divine Pulse’_ in the book, in the high corner. It was small, to the point even Byleth couldn’t fully register it, but an ability to turn back fate’s hand would prove useful.

  
  


_“I believe I can control it but, not going to lie, it did feel sorta random. That time before when I willed it, I think it was a fluke. I tried to do it earlier when you were training but nothing happened.”_

  
  


“Okay. Then we’ll have to find out what triggered it.” He shifted to write better notes on the time-stuff in the back of his book, a couple of other notes along with it. He could remember it of course, but a sense of normalcy and order always proved helpful, especially if the days continued on being this unpredictable.

  
  


They fell silent. Byleth adjusted to sit cross-legged and threw the jacket off his shoulders and the armour from his wrists, leaving only the thin grey fabric covering his top half.

  
  


“Mock battle, mock battle…” He muttered, trying to recall his train of thought.

  
  


He would have Mercedes in the back, for certain. She seemed moderately okay with a bow, but she showed an interest in magic. Fire was the easiest spell in the book, so if the days went well, he could teach her that in preparation. Keeping her long range would prove useful, given her physical inability.

  
  


Dedue would be in the front for certain, and potentially considered tag-teaming him up with Dimitri or Felix. The former worked well with Dedue and both possessed sheer physical prowess, but the latter was quicker, and a mix of speed and brawn always worked well.

  
  


At the very least, he would keep Felix and Dimitri apart. He could at least tell there was bad blood with them, at least on Felix’s end. They’d have to learn to co-operate eventually.

  
  


The fact that he himself was in the battle confused. Would it not make more sense for him to simply be tactising? Why even only let him pick three if the house leader was mandatory? If he could pick four he could make better judgement. 

  
  


Whatever.

  
  


He’d figure what he was doing later. If Billy was on the field he’d engage battle with her, and maybe take care of any other professors. Let the students feud with themselves.

  
  


He was pretty confident in his plan, but he needed to get a better read on the other houses in all honesty. Claude seemed pretty relaxed but he was quite thin, so he assumed something quick-moving or at least less of a weight-bearer, and Edelgard definitely possessed a fair bit of muscle, primarily in her legs.

  
  


_“You’re getting drowsy again. Go on, eat!”_ Sothis demanded after about twenty minutes of him debating about the mock.

  
  


“What, eat the paper?” He mocked in turn.

  
  


_“You know what I meant, jackass.”_

  
  


Without another word, he picked up the notebook and a shoddy leaded pen - not as effective as a quill, but it got the job done and didn’t need to be refilled every few seconds - and headed out the door. He still had to plan for the days coming before the battle, so a visit to the library was in order in what the fuck he was doing - Jeralt mentioned he had something for it too. 

  
  


The library was always quiet, so he could find some peace in there.

* * *

  
  


Dimitri woke in a breathless fear-filled panic, the blanket only covering a leg, the rest of it fallen off the side of the bed. He gripped the pillow, sweating chestnuts, his arms quivering, heart racing. 

  
  


How long had it been since he’d had a nightmare that bad?

  
  


The screams, cries for help, the fire, the bloodshed - he was, as cruel as it may sound, used to it. He truly wished he could say it was different in real life, but asleep he could not tell the difference between reality and matter of mind.

  
  


But this nightmare was of another breed. Even as it faded like droplets in the sun from his memory, it shook him. He vaguely remembered that awful feeling of being so, truly alone and yet he felt someone’s eyes burning into him. He could hear voices but not locate an owner. And the pain he felt when something invisible tore into his neck had felt so _real_.

  
  


The sweat that had pooled beneath him was disgusting, a sticky substance that kept his back glued to the mattress. He hated the feeling of peeling away from it, the bare of his skin pulling in the most awkward of manners away from it.

  
  


Lady Moon was still enjoying her performance, white hazes filtering through the window. Usually, his nightmares at least had the decency to wake him at a suitable time.

  
  


Dimitri, weak, stood from the bed and wandered over to where his clothes were neatly folded on a chair. There was little point in trying to sleep again now; he couldn’t even if he wanted to until the bed was washed. He resolved to simply dressing himself, leaving off the intricate clasps of the armour and donning the black wear. 

  
  


There was no work to be set so he had nothing to occupy his mind with, and the books Ashe had recommended to him were all out of his preferences (though he had skimmed them, as to not upset the boy). 

  
  


Despite it being out of curfew, he visited the library. The night guards, he’d learned from previous sleepless nights, were pretty much useless unless you were being loud about it, as he’d learned on his first rendezvous. He took care to be as quiet as possible.

  
  


The grounds had always seemed bigger at night. Always so desolate and lonely and dark. Yet, it breathed with a humble life he could not appreciate with the dizziness of day. The graffiti stone-carvings on the walls, detailing clippets of love lives and visitations; the cats and dogs that simply seemed to rest wherever they wanted; items a busy soul had dropped and would no doubt be looking for; chalk etched into the ground where young squires and maids had played hopscotch or drawn scribbles of whatever was on their mind, unknowable to others given the poor skill level.

  
  


There was a peacefulness Dimitri had always loved about the night. It resonated with him and allowed him to just be on his own, even if for a moment, as the voices crept in to fill the hopeful silence with solemn rambles.

  
  


They followed him through the halls, up the stairs and past the Professors’ offices. A shadow he could not rid. Yet, once he opened the doors to his destination, they fell silent. Odd, but not unwelcome.

  
  


Smoke drifted faintly from a corner of the room of a freshly-burnt out candle. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell like the smoke he was used to, but the sort of softness of a birthday candle being blown out. A child-like smile, a waft of nostalgia.

  
  


Stumbling blindly through the room, he attempted to find the desk which kept the matches, closing the doors behind him, and lit a nearby stick.

  
  


It was at that moment he noticed a dark form in the very corner of the room, slumped over a desk, by where the candle had worn. He recognised the tussle of cyan and his heart leapt into his throat, a worry taking over. _Shit_ , what if the Professor found out he was here so late? He couldn’t just lie and say he was allowed to, even based on the possibility he hadn’t been briefed on the rules. Change of plan; grab a book and leave.

  
  


He, resuming his quiet steps, tip-toed over to where his required books were. And of course, because luck was not with him today, he tripped over a **bloody chair**. He yelped as he landed face-first, nearly breaking the floorboards with his jaw, and at least hurting his chin. Yet, he heard no disturbance from the Professor. Not a ruffle, not a snort - not even a breath.

  
  


Hauling himself up and grabbing a book, he walked over to where the Professor lay. His mouth was open, drooling onto a book with writing so messy Dimitri couldn’t read it. He held a pencil in his hand, resting between two fingers, outstretched in front of him, the other arm resting his face.

  
  


He was deep in wonderland.

  
  


…

  
  


Did the Professor always look so pale, or was it a trick of the light?

  
  


Dimitri examined the sleeping male’s face, looking at his sunken eyes, the bags, and the still of his face. His lips weren’t twitching with breath and his nostrils didn’t flare. Without his jacket, it was easy to see; the Professor wasn’t breathing.

  
  


Panic snatched him, and he grabbed the Professor’s arm. Slipping the glove off, he placed two fingers on the wrist, feeling for the thump of a pulse, but there was nothing. He held the limb to his face and pressed his ear to it, hoping maybe the fabric of his gloves was betraying him, but- He couldn’t even hear the slow rumble of blood through his veins. And he was cold to the touch. So, shockingly, sickeningly cold. 

  
  


The Prince fell back, an ill-like feeling gripping him. Was the Professor dead? B-But he’d only known him for two days, he couldn’t be dead!

  
  


A voice, one he recognised too well, whispered in his ear. _“Unlucky is as unlucky does… What could you have done to prevent this?”_

  
  


The proof was in front of him, clear as day. Ignoring the consequences of curfew, he burst out the doors and thundered down the hall, hoping to find someone. And someone he found.

  
  


“‘Ey, ‘ey! What’s this ruckus?” A low, angered voice called from behind him. Dimitri was about to go down the stairs when Jeralt came out from his office. He rubbed the back of his neck, tired but awake.

  
  


“A-ah! J-Jeralt, Sir! The Professor- your son! I-I think he’s…” Jeralt eyed him through the nervous stammers. “I think he’s dead!” His voice broke on the final word. Maybe there was the added fear of confessing this to the father of the dead one, especially when that father could end his existence with a bare hand.

  
  


However, Jeralt raised an eyebrow, a small glint of worry in his eye. “Really now? Let’s go see. Where is he?”

  
  


“T-the library.”

  
  


Jeralt plodded slowly towards the library, Dimitri at his side, wringing his hands. For such a small distance, it seemed to stretch out eternally.

  
  


Dimitri pointed to the corner. “Over there.” He steeled his voice and stopped the shaking in his arms. Maybe if he hadn’t woken from a nightmare fifteen minutes ago, he wouldn’t be so shaken. Was it a warning?

  
  


Jeralt walked over to his son, still hunched on the table, completely unmoved. He clicked his fingers above the male’s head. “Hey, kid. Wake up, you’re in the library.” No response. Even with that though, Jeralt didn’t look worried. Instead, he grabbed Byleth’s shoulder and pulled him back in the chair, his head rolling limply with the movement.

  
  


His face even if squished against the chair was oddly peaceful, his eyes delicately closed and mouth parted, though the gracefulness was broken by the drool hanging over his chin and now sliding onto his neck.

  
  


With a swift motion, Jeralt pulled up Byleth’s shirt and placed a hand over the heart. There was a deathly silence as he waited for… something. Then, whatever it was, came. Jeralt backed off from his body with a start, shaking his hand as though burnt. “He’s fine.”

  
  


Dimitri gawked. “I- what?! How?! He’s.. He’s so-”

  
  


Jeralt laughed. “You think you’re worried? Imagine my fear when I brought home a kid that didn’t breathe when he slept!” It wasn’t a boom, but there was a lot of joy in it.

  
  


“What? This is normal?”

  
  


“Yeah. Ever since he was a babe he looked like a corpse when he slept.” Jeralt shrugged, “Dunno why, but he’s lived this long, so I can’t be of a great deal, hm. As long as he’s alive, I’m happy. Mercenaries don’t go down easily.”

  
  


Even with the confirmation, he couldn’t wipe the concern off his face, even if that taunting voice shut up and his shoulders rested.

  
  


“Now,” Jeralt turned to him. “There’s a curfew for you students, isn’t there?”

  
  


Dread fell down Dimitri’s spine. “Sir, I was unable to sleep so I thought to borrow a book to help.” 

  
  


“Don’t you have to check with Tomas for that? He keeps track of everything, so ‘m pretty sure just takin’ a book’s off limits.”

  
  


“...”

  
  


Jeralt, for whatever reason, didn’t press further. It was against the rules for this to go unpunished, especially at such a late hour with only the useless guards for protection, but he couldn’t hide the relief. He’d keep quiet if Jeralt would.

  
  


Cracking his shoulder, Jeralt sighed and gave one last check over his son, gently placing him back on the desk. “I’m not gonna say anything. But if it helps you sleep at night, you can stay ‘till he wakes. Then, you can actually check your book out.”

  
  


“Yes Sir.”

  
  


“It’s not an order, just an idea. And just call me Jeralt. Calling me ‘Sir’ makes me feel old.” With that, he exited, leaving Dimitri standing in the chill of the room. He grabbed the book from the table he’d set it on before running away and walked over to Byleth. He was half-tempted to do what Jeralt had and check, but it would come off as wrong, even if there was no one around to see him do it.

  
  


Settling, he opened the book and began reading in the candlelight, his eyes occasionally flicking over to see the figure opposite him. It was odd how the voices scarcely bothered him if someone else was in the room, though that was usually when they were alive.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The halls echoed with talk and yells, rejuvenated of the life it lost during the dark hours. Dimitri had finished the book he’d started a few hours ago and began on a new one. He yearned to sleep, almost wishing he had returned to his room. A headache started to knock on his head but he drove it out.

  
  


Thankfully, the library was not yet open as Tomas, as expected with age, took longer to get up than the others. It would be awkward to explain when someone came in why he was there, but he’d rather face that than have a friend walk in and get worried.

  
  


There was a crash from somewhere outside the door, followed by a booming “Sorry!” from Raphael. Dimitri half-jumped in his seat, and jumped again when he heard Byleth suddenly inhale.

  
  


All focus went on him in an instant, watching the steady curve of his back as he breathed in a gentle, rhythmic manner.

  
  


“...Professor..?” A grunt, and Byleth took a few seconds to lift his head up, a page of the book sticking to his face with slobber. His eyes were unfocused, but full of that deep blue hue, and his skin seemed to have instantaneously gained colour again, a healthy reddening around the cheeks, nose and chin.

  
  


He scrunched his nose up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, tearing the page in the process. Byleth looked at the rip, glanced at the wet, smudged writing, the ink on his hand, and promptly: “ **Shet.** ”

  
  


“Professor?” Dimitri repeated, holding back the sigh of comfort at seeing him good health (he thinks).

  
  


“Hm?” He looked up, shaken, “Wudafu? Where’m ah?” 

  
  


“The library, Professor.” Dimitri smiled as Byleth collected his bearings. He internally hoped it wouldn’t be weird given they were the only ones in the closed library… sitting directly across from each other… while Byleth slept….

  
  


Dimitri just started to realise how creepy it was.

  
  


Byleth’s eyes went hazy for a moment as he zoned out, recalling the memory of last night. “Ah, m’k ba’ul.” He grunted and pushed his chair out, screeching like nails on a chalkboard. Dimitri followed his lead and left his own chair, leaving the book open on the table. Byleth eyes him with a questioning glare. “I dun ashk you t’come?”

  
  


“Ah, I’m leaving anyway.” He smiled, and the Professor paid him no more mind, instead leaving, not really processing the fact that the library should be closed.

  
  


He walked down the hall, Dimitri trailing behind him. There were a few students who seemed to misinterpret their leave as the library being open, but that was an issue for Tomas now. It was light out, but an atmosphere of sleep hung around sulking and yawning students, the few coming up to give a visit to a Professor or Archbishop Rhea.

  
  


The duo were headed in the same direction anyway, so it shouldn’t be too odd. Still, Dimitri felt pressed to make small talk. “Are we having lessons today Professor?” Byleth flipped open the book to an early page and scanned it.

  
  


“...Yea. Recapp’n' bashics.” For a moment he turned to Captain Jeralt’s room. Dimitri heard a friendly greeting, a mumbled reply, and what he was fairly certain was a slap on the back before Byleth re-emerged, now holding another book under his arm and a baked good.

  
  


“Just, weapon basics?” He continued as Byleth took a mouthful.

  
  


“Eh, fight’n shtyles too.” 

  
  


“Oh, we haven’t covered much of those actually! Usually just how to wield weapons, not the specifics! I’m quite excited honestly! What do mercenaries usually u-”

  
  


A hand clapped loudly but lazily over his mouth. He looked to Byleth, who was now giving him a proper stare, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. 

  
  


“Ish early, ‘m tired, an’ I ca’t procesh anythin’. So shuddup, Squeaky.” He hissed as best he could before continuing on down the stairs, presumably towards his dorm or the diner. 

  
  


“Squeaky…?” He huffed with indignation. He was quite sure his voice wasn’t squeaky, at least not enough to register a nickname! Was this a correlation between _‘Boar’_ or something? He sighed and made his way back to his own dorm to gather the rest of his uniform.

  
  


_‘Note to self’_ Dimitri thought, _‘don’t bother Professor in the mornings.’_

* * *

  
  


A tension of excited unease suffocated the Blue Lion’s classroom. Byleth stood in front of the blackboard, giving half-assed diagrams and even sloppier writing about weapon uses. They’d heard it before, but it was soon apparent that he offered a lot more than their previous Professors, even if he kept it brief. However, he spoke quickly and he didn’t turn away from the board to see raised hands, so the frantic scribble of pencil was loud behind him.

  
  


Well, mostly, excluding Sylvain, who was leaning over Annette’s work and silently chatting to her. She’d mutter a reply, then panic about catching up, and start scribbling again; rinse, wash and repeat.

  
  


Dimitri ignored it, focusing solely on writing what he could hear. He was a breath away from snapping his second pencil; frustration at not being able to hear properly, or just his stress seeping through, he didn't know.

  
  


Well, that was his focus until Sylvain whispered with worrying joy from behind him. “Your Highness! Your Highness! Look at me!”

  
  


Of course, his request was brushed off. But like the annoying bug Sylvain is, he wouldn’t let up. “Your Highness!” He pitched his voice to a something high and feminine and sing-songy, “Yooouur Hiiiiiighneeeesssss~”

  
  


The Prince grumbled and Dedue turned, quietly, “Please stop bothering His Highness.”

  
  


Sylvain tutted. “Your Highness! Look my regal way, I wanna check something!”

  
  


“Sylvain, do you have something you want to share with the class?” Byleth turned away from the board finally, giving the students a chance to catch up, though his hand remained on the chalk. His piercing gaze was fixed on the red-head. Sylvain swallowed, then challenged;

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


Byleth raised an eyebrow and placed the chalk in its holder, sitting down in his chair. “Let’s hear it then. What’s so important you must disrupt my lesson?”

  
  


“Your Highness, look at me!” Dimitri hit his fist with restraint against the desk and twisted around, brows furrowed.

  
  


“What?! What is it?” Sylvain examined his face for a moment, then a shit-eating grin split from ear-to-ear.

  
  


He stretched back in the chair for a moment. “What were you doing in the library earlier? Anything… unseemly?” Dimitri paused for a moment to take in Sylvain’s words, not quite understanding until he got a certain mischievous look in his eye. One Dimitri had become familiar with after the years of knowing one another.

  
  


“How…” He spluttered, feeling his face heat up, “why on the Goddess would you suggest something like that? Whatever gave you that notion?”

  
  


Sylvain wordlessly pointed to Dimitri’s chin, and he instantly went to feel it. He reeled with a hiss once he did, and prodded again, more gentle this time.

  
  


“Explain that then.”

  
  


“Oh for the love of- This is a bruise, _not_ a hickey! Where is your mind right now?”

  
  


He held his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just sayin’! My good friend Annette here said that she saw you and the Professor exiting the library together and that you had something on your chin. As a noble, I must make sure no rules are being broken!” He slung an arm around Annette.

  
  


“H-hey! Don’t drag me into your mess! I was only saying because I was worried.” Her eye flickered to Dimitri with a _‘don’t associate me with him’_ look. “I just wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you!... He _didn’t_ hurt you, did he?” She lowered her voice.

  
  


He shook his head. “No, I was clumsy and fell over. The Professor was asleep.”

  
  


“You fell?” Felix stopped taking notes, “One, how did the Professor not hear someone like _you_ fall over and two,” He turned up his nose, “why were in the same room with the Professor while he was sleeping?”

  
  


“I know, it sounds much worse than it is, I can explain-”

  
  


“Then explain.” Sylvain said, still grinning at the rise.

  
  


“I’m going to-”

  
  


“Enough, guys, please.” Mercedes half-begged. She glanced at the Professor, who seemed completely undisturbed by the argument. “If the Professor is okay with it - I think he is, are you? - then let’s drop this. Shall we get back to the lesson?”

  
  


Hearing her sweet voice was a heaven-sent in that moment. 

  
  


Sylvain murmured something under his breath, orange eyes focused on Dimitri, which ended up with Ingrid getting out of her seat, walking across the Sylvain, and promptly slapping him. “What?! I didn’t even-”

  
  


THUMP

  
  


All eyes went to the front of the classroom, Byleth’s Tactics Primer slammed onto the desk. He’d raised himself up.

  
  


“I don’t want to hear another word. This conversation is over. Sylvain.” He pointed at the skirt-chaser, “See me after class.”

  
  


Sylvan gaped and looked around the class for a defense he didn’t receive. “What, why? What’d I do?”

  
  


“You started this mess, you can suffer for it.”

  
  


“Wow Sylvy.” Ashe snickered, “In trouble on the first day. Is this a new record? Hey Ingrid, is this a new record?”

  
  


Sylvain pointed a finger at Ashe. “Oi…. _Second_ day.”

  
  


Dimitri placed his head in his hands, his headache now considerably worse. It pounded on his forehead like a prisoner on iron bar. He couldn’t process the rest of Sylvain’s argument, nor whatever else the Professor said. It all turned to indecipherable mush. It sounded foggy, oddly enough. He didn’t even realise class was over until Byleth ushered them out and Dedue handed him his notes to copy. He didn’t stick around with Ingrid, Felix and Annette to hear Sylvain’s lecture.

  
  


He hoped to whatever Goddess or God was out there that this was not an indicator of what the year was going to be like. Last year’s start was bumpy but to be this bad on the firs- second day was… less than preferable.

  
  


He hoped that, at least, Claude and Edelgard were doing better than him. Claude did have Billy, who seemed much more hyperactive - for better or worse, he’d soon find out. And Edelgard had Manuela who was at least accustomed to teaching.

  
  


There was another lesson in two hours. Good, he needed that time to recollect himself. He bid Dedue well and shut himself in his room. 

  
  


For the first time, he was almost glad to hear those shrieking voices. This didn’t matter, these classes didn’t matter, they wouldn’t matter in the end, they wouldn’t matter eventually.

  
  


He just had to keep his goal in mind, and this year would pass as quickly as the last.

  
  


He hoped.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Flayn curled up in the corner of her room, crying her innocent little eyes out. A leathery tail stuck out from under her dress, itching at the skin surrounding it’s hilt. Her face stung with scales shading her lower eye.

  
  


This _always_ happened when she got emotional, always. It was a curse she knew she’d simply have to live with, but it didn’t stop it from being any less irritating.

  
  


She gripped hopelessly at the floorboard, sobbing hysterically, claws painfully beginning to jut out from her nails. _‘Ride it out, just ride it out, like father said.’_

  
  


A rumble of pain shot through her small form, electrifying her from head to clawed toe. He tail thumped against the wood like a dog being pet by its owner, minus the joy. The pain twisted itself through her veins and dug into parts of her even she was unaware could ache, stinging so bad it brought forth a horn from underneath her veil of lime hair.

  
  


In the Blue Lion’s classroom, it was all empty except one lone soul. A soul who suddenly lurched forward, a mild pain singing into his heart, an emotion they didn’t recognise suddenly implanting itself in him.

  
  


He stumbled for a moment, looking around wildly. “Sothis, was that you?”

  
  


_“No but… I felt it too.”_ She muttered. A cry got caught in her throat, threatening a sob. _“What…? The fuck’s going on?”_

  
  


Byleth brushed it off.

  
  


Seteth burst into the room, trying to hide worry behind his calm demeanor. “Are you okay?”

  
  


“...Yeah?”

  
  


“Oh good… Where’s Flayn? Do you know?”

  
  


Byleth shook his head.

  
  


“Oh Goddess, oh no, oh dear.” He speeded off, speeding off under the archways in a wild hunt for his sister.

  
  


The people here were weird, Byleth concluded. But then again, so was he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: im using nicob's playthrough of fe3h as a basis for this
> 
> also, thanks for the support!!! it really means the world to me!!! <3


	5. (Deleting this chapter soon) updates

Before anyone asks: I am still writing this! Unfortunately, my laptop ended up breaking during my no motivation time. However, it should be working all fine now! Everything should be saved so I'll pick up where I left off and start writing again :)

So sorry for the radio silence!


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